Acting The Part
by Kenny's Most Wanted
Summary: In a desperate attempt to escape the unwanted affections of All the Ladies, Kyle takes Kenny's suggestion to act gay...with Stan, who may not be just acting.
1. Chapter 1

Hello again. Coming back to the Stan and Kyle that we all know and love. Tell us what you think!

**Acting The Part**

**Chapter 1**

Stan's POV

It sucks that summer had to end, but I was use to it by now. This year I was going to be a senior, and things were going to be different for me. I was considered pretty plain last year, but this year someone would think I was awesome before we graduated and went off to college or wherever we went after high school.

I guess I've always been the normal guy. Average looks, average size, average intelligence. Even average carpentry skills. I don't know how that last one applies to anything, but whatever.

Even after all this time, me and my friends still went to school together. In fact, Kyle was probably going to meet up with me at some point our first day back.

I look at myself in mirror and give my hair one last ruffle before heading to the school. Maybe this year, I'll do SOMETHING to turn heads.

I thought about trying out for the football team again. But, after last year's embarrassment that costs us the state title (I refuse to even explain), I'm thinking that's a no. So basically, all I've got is my C-average and my best friend.

I didn't actually know WHERE to meet up with Kyle, but no one knows where they're going the first day of school anyway. Kyle had actually gotten in great shape over the summer. Cartman pissed him off one day, so he vowed to work on his upper body strength so his punches would hurt more. Before any of us knew it, Kyle was all...buff. I didn't even need to see him to know that he'd probably put on more muscle the last couple weeks of summer.

Come to think of it...I HAVEN'T seen Kyle in a few weeks. That's really weird for us. I kinda miss the guy.

But, it won't be too hard spotting him, wherever he is. Kyle is, as the girls like to call him, an "amazing specimen of male species." Or, in better terms, a complete babe magnet. Wherever he's at, they're there. Just follow the girls...Kyle'll be at the end of the trail. I'd like to say that it gets kind of annoying, but hey, I'm always with Kyle, so they are always around me too, right?

"Stan!" I hear someone call out. I turn around, expecting to see my best friend. As it turns out, Kenny has found me first.

"Oh, hey Kenny."

"Hey, dude, what's up?" I watch him half strut, half limp over to me. Either he just got out of a fight--before the first class of the first day--or his last experiment with his go-kart didn't work out.

"Did you get your schedule of classes yet? I think we're in the same study hall!" he announces, very excited.

"Not yet," I inform him. "But that'd be cool."

He nodded in agreement.

"What's with your leg?" I ask.

"Oh. Heh. I got so wasted last night."

That's how most, if not ALL, of Kenny's stories start. "I got so smashed last night, they took a picture of me humping a telephone pole." Or, "I was so fucked up, I didn't even KNOW that was a cop car." Or, my personal favorite, "I got SO drunk last night, I woke up in my sister's clothes. And she was in mine." Heh, good 'ole Ken.

"So, saying goodbye to another summer without homework or rules?" I ask him.

"Yeah, it sucks," he agrees. "That's why we gotta become our own bosses. Then we can take time off whenever we want."

I nod. Not that I had dreams of becoming my own boss. It's just that Kenny was probably still thinking with a hungover head, and you can't really argue with people when they're messed up.

"Have you seen Kyle?" I ask.

"Yeah, think he's being swallowed up by that girl black hole over there," he informs me, pointing over to, in fact, a swarming mass of girls and a bright red poof of hair in the very center. Another benefit to finding Kyle--he's tall. Taller than most of the student body, including our tallest basketball players. Wonder why Kyle never played basketball...

"I'll see you around." I announce to Kenny.

"Of course," he agrees, totally understanding the need to go socialize with Kyle.

As I approach the crowd, I brace myself. It's gotten so bad that I feel like a weed whacker, chopping down all obstructions to get to what really matters. Maybe I'm a little jealous. Of the attention. That Kyle gets.

"Hey dude!" I yell on my toes with my arm outstretched to the ceiling so he knows its me.

"Hey!" he yells back. Some of the girls between us start to move, so I think Kyle is trying to walk around them only for the girls to try and stand in his way again.

"Well, I gotta get to class," I hear Kyle announce. A few of the girls "Aww!" in response, but reluctantly walk away all the same. Surely they have classes too.

He winks and nods at me and I follow him out of the mob and into a less inhabited hallway. When the coast is clear, he takes a deep breath.

"DUDE, this is getting fucking ridiculous!" he exclaims, but barely above a whisper. "I'm not a celebrity. I'm...just...me!"

I smile. He's Kyle Broflovski. Er...the only Jewish stud in town, according to the ladies. "Maybe you've got a diamond-encrusted wallet they want or somethin." I know that's at least partially true. His money is definitely one of his appeals to them.

"Well rich lawyer dad or not they need to let me breathe! God!"

He shakes his head, as though he were shaking off the combined scent of perfume and pheromones coating his body. "Anyway, what's up! Do we have the same classes yet?"

"We never do, smartass," I remind him as we begin our trek to the office to get our schedules. Kyle's too smart for me.

Out the corner of my eye, I spy him making a face and sifting through his folders and pulling out his schedule. "Actually, I think we might be in the same English class AND biology class, Stan!" he cries, shoving me a little. I can tell he hates it when I constantly remind him of how smart he is. But its just another one of his charming qualities, I guess.

On our way to the office we make the usual small talk. It sucks that summer is over, Kenny has another drunken story to share later on, blah blah blah. It's all routine so far, but we're just warming up. Once I have my schedule in my hand, I discover that Kyle was right. He usually is, but it's super cool that he was right THIS time, because it means that we DO have a couple of classes together! Sweet!

"Well," Kyle concludes, looking down at his watch. "Guess I'll see you third period then, huh?"

"You got it," I respond, grinning. We part ways, and before I even step foot in the classroom of my 1st period, the bell goes off. Damn it. Late again.

How does that _always_ happen?

Kyle's POV:

Why does God hate me? I finally have a class with Stan, and Eric Cartman has to be in the same room! Cartman probably knows this is one of my only classes with Stan, so he'll do everything he can to wreck it. I'm so glad I added muscle this summer. I'm always hitting Cartman, but now it hurts a lot more. I just hope fat ass isn't in biology, too.

"Heeellooo Kaaahl," I hear the most ANNOYING voice sing to me as he wiggles into the seat to my right side. Stan hasn't shown up yet, but if he doesn't get here soon, I may be practicing my shot put skills with Cartman's fat face.

"What do YOU want, fatass," I grumble, my eyes glued to the door for my best friend's arrival.

"Just saying hello to my favorite Jew," he responds in a sickeningly sweet tone of voice. "So, it looks like we have English class together."

"You can't copy off of me," I reply. I hope this news will make him stop kissing my ass and go away. No such luck.

"Oh Kahl, you're so funny."

"OMG, KYYYLE!" I hear yet another nauseating voice squeal. I overt my eyes to the new aggravation, and it's Red and her friend whatshername. I don't even know half the chicks that screech out my name anymore. I've stopped trying.

Please, God. Just let me get through this class without lard butt and whiny girls pissing me off too much. Where is Stan? He'll take off some of the edge. I turn to face Cartman again, who insists on scooting his desk uncomfortably close to me and leaning over the aisle. He's staring at me in a dreamy manner again just to get under my skin. Fuck, its working.

"Sup Red?" Cartman asks the girl, totally ignoring my presence for the time being. Hm, is THAT fat boy's angle? Get close to me in order to get closer to the girls in the room? If so, I could have some fun with this. Then again, maybe he's just trying to piss me off? Move in on "my" action? As if I care about Red or her stupid friend. Where the HELL is Stan?

As if on cue, my disorganized mess of a friend comes stumbling in, yelling, "I'm not late! I'm not late!" Haha, Stan is ridiculously hyper in the morning, and it doesn't settle until a few hours into the evening. He's a wind up doll.

I raise my eyebrows and stare directly at him as he makes his way past the rows of seating before he plops down in the seat next to me. Red glares at him--I think she wanted to sit there herself. Haha, oh well.

Red doesn't even respond to Cartman's greeting. She's too busy burning a hole in Stan for taking "her" seat. Sucks for fat ass. Hopefully he'll leave me alone now. Or find some other girl further away to bother, or whatever his goal is.

"I hate you so much, Stan," Cartman mutters under his breath as Red pouts and then finally leaves the scene. With her goes Cartman. He tries to be inconspicuous, but that's kind of impossible when you outweigh an elephant.

"Kyle, seriously, I think they are shortening the passing periods," Stan frantically tells me. He's such a spaz, it's amusing.

"Calm down, dude, its only the first day!" I know Stan. He gets like this from time to time. Actually more so than not. But its part of him, and I've learned to counterbalance it.

"You'll learn your way around." I assure him. "Everyone fucks up the first day. It's fine."

"Yeah," Stan smiles, apparently feeling better about it.

"Yeah," I reply.

"So how were your first classes?" he asks me, finally getting situated in his desk. I'm definitely going to like having him in two of them.

"Meh, can't complain," I say, shrugging my shoulders.

"Same here," he answers.

Suddenly, the teacher calls for the attention of the class. Shit! That means that Stan and I could now only communicate through whispers and note passing for the next half hour or so. Oh well. We've done it before successfully. Stan's first note concurs with me in hoping that fat ass won't be joining us in biology later. My note says that I think biology will be the tougher course.

Okay, so we might be lame. And our unnecessary written conversation could be avoided in favor of listening to the class syllabus. But, think about that. Okay, I might be intelligent, but I am NOT a geek! School just comes naturally to me.

Stan's next note says "If so, you can help tutor me" with a smiley face.

"And by tutor, you mean give you all the answers?" I reply. I illustrate it with a frowny face and a large "NO" to emphasize my disagreement with the idea.

I chuck the note into Stan's open hands, and study his face as he opens it up and reads it. His brow furrows in disappointment as a response, and he looks to me with a sloppy lopsided grin. I watch him even more intently as he scribbles down something below my comment, as we both momentarily forget that school should be our first priority.

"_Mis_ter Marsh," the pompous Colonel Sanders-ish guy with gray hair instead of white says. I've heard about this guy. He's the infamous 12th grade Literature and Advanced English Nazi.

I bet him and Cartman will get along.

"Yes sir?" Stan answers politely.

"Are you passing notes in my class?"

"No sir, I'm taking notes," he says calmly.

"Then you won't mind if I...take...your notes, huh?" he intelligently twists the words around. I smile, but force it inwardly. If Stan gets in trouble, I go down with him. That's how it's always been.

"I'm...I-I'd really rather have my notes to myself, sir," Stan pleads. "F-for educational purposes." I can see he's struggling. I wish there was something I could do for him.

"You'll get them back just as soon as I check their authenticity," the teacher says. He has a southern drawl. I bet he says 'authoritah' just like Cartman.

Speak of the devil, a pudgy hand raises high in the air as an equally pudgy voice accompanies it.

"Mr. Leeeewis?" Cartman sings, once again, in his damn manipulative voice. The fat, old man turns. "Um, Stan and Kyle's note passing is having a severe effect on my levels of concentraaaation. Can you separate their seats to avoid further class disruption?"

That son of a bitch.

"That's a good idea," the old man said. "You stay put Mister Broflovski. Mister Marsh, go sit next to that boy." He points over to Cartman, who smiles in response. "You've only been in my class a day mister Marsh, and already you come off as a liar and a note-passer. I hope that nice boy over there keeps you in line."

Damn Cartman. He's got something MORE up his sleeve.

"Um...Mr. Lewis," he starts in again. "While I appreciate your thoughtfulness for others and correcting Stanley's behavior, I simply feel as though my learning will be tampered with. You keep Stan where he's at to serve as punishment."

Mr. Lewis ponders this thought for a second before he responds. "Of course! Mr. Broflovski, you assume the seat next to..." he looks down at his notepad, "...Mr. Cartman."

I grit my teeth and narrow my eyes as I pick up my things and move the other side of the room. Defeated by Cartman.

Oh, he will pay.

Now I was really staring at the clock. Cartman would probably berate me for the whole period, every day. It was either fuck around with him, or listen to a boring first-day lecture from some hick. Maybe after a few months of being teacher's pet I could worm my way back over to the seat with Stan. Or, maybe my answer would come later, in biology.

"So, Kyle, looks like you and I are stuck together for the rest of the semester," he whispered as he puffed out his fat cheeks into a somewhat smile. He closed his eyes. "Get comfortable, Jewboy."

I grunted and shifted positions in my seat so that I could still see Stan. Even though we couldn't pass notes, we were dead on at understanding one another's mouthed words. I mouthed "God, help me," and he gave me a sympathetic smile. And that's how it was, until the much-glorified bell rang.

---

"Get away from me, Cartman," I grumble, making my way up in the lunch line. Apparently, today is annoy-the-hell-out-of-Kyle day, and everyone is participating! Not only do I NOT have lunch with Stan, but instead they dropped me into a lunch full of admiring girls and...Cartman.

I push my way forward, and naturally, some girls see me and part like the Red Sea. I guess there are benefits to being well liked.

"Isn't this great, Kyle? You and me havin' lunch together."

"What the hell do you want!" I snap. "What's your game, fat boy?"

He takes the chance to swipe at my pudding cup, but I'm sure he's after a lot more. He follows me to my seat despite my objection. Of course.

As we sit down, I feel the vibration of his butt cheeks hitting the metal on MY butt cheeks, even though we're sitting across from one another. Is it just me, or did he get fatter over the summer?

He frowns at me for the first time this whole day, and THAT is disturbing. Usually it takes him one second. Acknowledging my appearance. "Kyle, I'm gonna level with you," he tells me. I find that hard to believe. He continues.

"Its been, what...ten, fifteen years that we've been bitter enemies?" I raise my eyebrows. "I think it's time...we...well, we bury the hatchet." There it is. His cheesy smile again.

"...And by that, you mean what?" I ask.

"Just what I said Kyle. Look, this might be our last year together. I don't wanna spend it fighting. You and Stan and Kenny...You guys are like, the longest friends I've ever kept."

"There's a reason for that," I point out.

Cartman grimaces, and then he continues. "Kyle, I would appreciate it you would hold your wiseass comments until the end."

"Why do I need to do that, DUMBass?" I tell him more than ask, already frustrated at his insincere attempt. Its true. We have been--and I'm reluctant to say this--...friends...for that long. And I know every single one of the tricks in his book. He is NOT going to fool me this year. I am smarter and BETTER than that.

"Kyle, I'm seriously." he insists. Hm. He either is trying hard to sound sincere now, or he IS being sincere, which would just be creepy.

Cartman continues. "I wanna have a good last year. A good last memory of you, my friend, before we go and do whatever after high school. I know I'll never be your best friend like Stan, but I just thought this was a good start. This, and getting us together in English. I mean, at some point, we'd have to talk and become cool with each other."

I almost spit out my juice. "You think that pulling us together like that was a GOOD thing? Cartman! Jesus..." I begin to go off on a rant, but then it occurs to me. Cartman doesn't know _how_ to be nice. Matter of fact, what he did back there, probably WAS him being nice. Even if he was being a jackoff about it. I sigh. Maybe I'm a pushover, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. "Okay, Cartman,"

"Eric."

This time I DO spit out my juice. "What!"

"I want you to call me Eric," he repeats. "I don't go around calling you Broflovski, do I?"

"...O- ...Okay?" I agree, more as a question than a statement this time. "But, Eric, you still split up me and Stan. That's not cool dude."

"Eh, you two homos need some time away from each other."

"What was that?" I ask him to clarify, though I heard him loud and clear. My ears start to burn and I grit my teeth.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologizes quickly. "Force of habit. Won't happen again."

"Yes it will! You think we're gonna talk in English and pass notes and shit just because we're seated together! Tomorrow you'll rip on me even harder just because I'm stuck there!"

"Calm down, Jewboy, I'm try-"

"And you think that calling me Jewboy is better than calling me by my last name? Don't belittle my PEOPLE, FATASS!"

"Kyle," Cartman pleads. "Kyle, stop. I'm not trying to be your enemy nyaw."

"Oh whatever, Cartman. Fuck you!" I yell, standing up and storming off with my food tray. I need to find a table where I can be alone.

"Stay back, bitches!" a loud female voice threatens from the side of me. I turn my head instinctively to see what the hell is going on. It's Kenny's little sister, Katie. She's threatening my other female admirers with a broken bottle for some reason. Suddenly, she puts on a big smile and walks toward my new table. Why would she...? ...Oh no. God, no!

"Why hello there, Kyle," she coos, taking a seat next to me, completely uninvited. "Guess who's in high school now?"

Shit. Guess she wasn't that much younger than us. Still...she wears entirely too much makeup for a 14 year old. And she has entirely too many holes in that short skirt of hers. And entirely too tall of heels OUCH. She just jabbed me in the arm with part of that bottle! Bitch!

"I'll give you one guess, Kyle-boy." Ugh.

"You?" I ask, playing along.

"Yep! I'm a freshmen now."

"Great Katie. Well, it was nice talking to you. Why don't you go find your brother or something?"

Okay, so I'm not exactly subtle about wanting to be left alone. I don't care!

She takes this as an excuse to cuddle up next to me.

"I'd much rather stay with you, Kyle." Those eyelashes have entirely too much mascara on them. And that hairstyle _has_ to go...

Did I just say that? I mean, SHE has to go. Her hair is part of her body. Guh, my brain is suffering majorly with this lack of silence and oxygen.

"Katie, I'm having a really bad day," I admit to her. "I'd really rather be alone right now."

"Aww!" she pouts. Is she wearing lipstick too? Jeez, what a little tramp.

"I can make your day better," she announces with a wink.

"...Excuse me?"

She wraps her arm around my back, and from behind me, I hear a bunch of girls sighing in defeat. "You heard what I said. I'm not just Kenny's little sister anymore."

"Actually," I disagree, "that's EXACTLY what you are."

She pouts and pulls herself closer into me. Oh God, I'd love to tell you this is a one-time thing. But its not. Its not even a yearly occurrence. Or weekly. No, this is a multi-day happening for me. Did I ask to be born with...attractive features? I'm not saying that to be egotistical. But I'm starting to wonder why the hell I'm so wonderful.

And I'm getting pretty damn sick of everyone thinking I am.

"Kyle, Kenny never has to know if that's what you're worried about." she assures me. "I've messed around before and he never knew."

I raise an eyebrow. I didn't want to know that, least of all about my buddy's kid sister. Ew!

"Katie!" I yell, prying my arms and body out of her reach. Once again, I'm standing. Can I guy have no PRIVACY to eat his goddamned school lunch? "I'm...I'm not what you want! I'm NOT INTERESTED," I reword, as her advancements become apparent.

Okay, fuck the food. Sanity is more important. I'll high tail it out of there and conceal myself in the bathroom until the bell rings and I can get on with my day.

I hear a retching sound coming from one of the stalls. Oh, great. Just what I need today. After a flush, Kenny emerges from the stall. It's only the second time I've seen him today. Now that I'm really paying attention, he DOES look pretty shitty. Hopefully he just puked out the last of his bad feelings and would leave me alone.

Surprisingly, I find myself talking to him first. "Ken, what the hell's wrong with your sister?"

Kenny swallows and wobbles a little, looking at me through half-closed eyes. "Dude, don't even..." he begins, but immediately halts conversation as he runs back into the stall, creating more music to my ears. When did he become such a lush? Guess I don't pay attention to many of my friends...only Stan.

Kenny comes back out of the stall. He begins brushing his teeth. I guess I can put up with this. In another minute he'll be gone, and then I can have the peace and quiet I seek.

"What do you mean what's wrong with her?" he asks me. "What ISN'T wrong with my family?"

"Good point," I agree. I walk over to him, studying him in the mirror. Poor Kenny. He'd be so much better looking if he didn't look hungover all the time. And didn't smell like piss and vomit. Sadly, he's truly taken to his dad's roots. I wish I could say different--I saw a lot of potential in him before we started high school.

He pulls out a comb and starts grooming himself. "Katie's just all excited to be in high school, where she can get a hot piece of ass."

"What!"

"She's a true McCormick. She'll probly have a kid before she graduates."

It was amazing how nonchalant Kenny is about his sister's future. Has he really accepted this life for himself and his family so easily? It's sad.

"Well, that may be, but I think she wants MY ass, dude."

Kenny pauses his clean up process to lean backwards and sneak a peek at the goods. I stare at him blankly, and then I narrow my eyes a little. "Kenny!"

"What?" he asks, defensively. "I've gotta check out my sister's prey. See if he's...good enough." He pulls out a little container of floss and starts flossing away. I think he has better hygiene habits here at school than he does at home.

His comment strikes me. "Oh. And?" I don't know why I just asked that. Like I _want_ to know what Kenny thinks of my ass. I shake my head.

"I don't WANT her making me prey though. I want her to go away and hit on a freshman," I quickly add.

"What the fuck am I s'pposed to do about it?" Kenny asks. I honestly don't know the answer to that, but surely he could do SOMETHING more than check me out to see if I'm worthy of his underage sibling.

"I told her I wasn't interested."

"That makes you prime bait to the McCormicks, Kyle," Kenny informs me.

"Should I tell her I don't date freshmen?"

"You're playing hard to get."

"Well Jesus Christ, Kenny! Tell me do SOMETHING!" I say, losing my breath AND patience.

Kenny shrugs. "Tell her you're gay."

I do a double take. Did I hear that right? "What?" I ask.

"Tell her you're gay," he repeats. "McCormick's will fuck a lot of things, but we don't try to change someone who plays for the other team. No point in it, you know?"

"You really think she's gonna buy that though?"

Wow. Am I actually considering this?

"Why not? You work out all the time, you hang out with me and Stan a lot...And even Cartman...And, frankly, you're a pretty hot looking guy."

"So that makes me gay?"

Kenny shakes his head and laughs. "No, but it makes you believable."

I, too, shake my head. "Kenny, I'm just so sick of girls CONSTANTLY swarming around me. It's like...I don't even get a moment of time to myself, or even with my friends, because they're always just...there. Staring at me. Asking me out."

Kenny feigned disgust. "Yeah, I can see how that'd be a total drag."

"I'm just not sure what to do anymore."

Kenny shrugs. "Well you know my answer. It's all I've got for ya, buddy."

I sigh. "I'll think of something I guess. Thanks."

"Sure. I'll see ya," he says as he heads out the bathroom door. Ah, finally. Peace and quiet all for me.

Until the bell rings, which it just did. Of course. Fucking perfect.

Stan's POV 

I feel relief when I see Kyle's curly red 'fro enter the room. I feel like I haven't seen him in a decade. I have so much to catch up with him on. Well...not really. Shit happened in class today. The usual. I was late to Mrs. Determan's room. Got a detention. Kyle'll scold me for that, I'm sure.

I take a seat in the back, and make sure to save him one next to me. The teacher won't see us messing around back there. No more screwups like in English. Best of all, it looks like Cartman doesn't have this class with us, so everything should go smoothly.

God I hate that underhanded, conniving Cartman. He fucking did that whole thing on purpose. I don't know what his plans are for Kyle this year, but if I have anything to say about it, Cartman will be begging for mercy when I get done with him. "Hey dude!" I greet Kyle with a warm smile. He returns one of greater strength.

Is it hot in here or is it just me?

"Hi," he greets me as he sits down. He prepares his notebook once again, either to take notes or write me some.

I can tell right away from the tone in his voice that he's having a bad day. "Aw, Ky, what's wrong?" I ask him, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He shudders and slowly shakes his head.

"Don't even ask, Stan. Don't even ask."

Well, of course I'm going to ask now. Shit, he ALWAYS tells me everything. "Cartman got to you?" I venture, knowing I've hit it square on the nose.

"Yes! He says he wants to be 'friends' now, which his total bullshit. On top of THAT, I've got Kenny's sister trying to jump me, girls not leavin' me alone, and hardly any time with you at school! I've got homework the first day, had no time to myself, and I think I got a paper cut!"

"Cartman wants to be friends!" I ask for clarification, deciding to tackle one issue at a time.

Kyle turns and looks me in the eye. "He wants me to call him Eric."

"..."

"Yeah."

"Maybe he's just hot for you like the girls," I joke. To my joy, the remark manages to draw a laugh from way deep down inside of Kyle. The very IDEA of a gay Eric Cartman...

Suddenly, Kyle's laughter stops, and he focuses on some significant spot up in the front of the room. I look up there, but I don't know what the fuck he's staring at. "Stan," he says without snapping out of his trance. "Could I pass as gay?"

Now it's my turn to laugh. "What?"

"You heard me. Do I look like, ya know, one of them?"

"One of them? Dude, Kyle, they aren't aliens. Anyone could be one of 'them.'"

"Could _I_ be?" he asks, not even listening to what I just said.

"I don't know, dude..."

"Would you still be my friend if I were?" he continues, unrelenting.

I raise an eyebrow. Is he confessing something to me here? And if so, why now? Is he looking to cap off a crappy day with the loss of a best friend? Not that I'd stop being his friend over something like that. Maybe he's just going insane?

"Yeah," I assure him.

"Are you sure, Stan? If I just up and decided to go gay today, you wouldn't mind?"

I fight back the second wave of laughter. _Go_ gay? What is he on? "Sure, dude. I'll always be there for you. You can count on me."

Kyle searches my eyes for truth. When he finds it, he takes a long sigh and then goes right back to staring at that spot up front. "Just checkin'."

Hearing only silence from him, I press on.

"...And?"

"And what?"

"Well, ARE you gay?" I ask. "You don't just say something like that and then stop!"

Kyle looks taken aback by my question. "No dude, of course not," he answers frankly.

What just happened here? Confused, I decide its best not to pry into the mind of my brilliant best friend quite yet. He'll open up when its time. For now, we've got Biology.

Kyle turns to me and smiles again. But there is something more in his smile. He is...he's...he looks like he's sizing me up! What the fuck?

"Kyle!" I say, alerting the studying boy.

He says nothing.

"Kyle..." I repeat, this time waving my hand in front of my face.

"What?" he asks me innocently, as if he hadn't been staring...dreamily...at me for the past minute.

"Cut it out," I tell him. He never does this. Maybe the girls' behavior is rubbing off on him.

"Sorry," he apologizes. "I guess...I can't help myself." He makes sure to look over to some girls after he says this. I'm not sure why.

I shake off his weird behavior as the bell rings, and we're talked into our first assignment. Two more periods and we're free for the day. Then maybe Kyle can get some rest or some oxygen or whatever it is he needs.

We continue to pass notes throughout the period again, this time with detailed drawings of how boring our classes are. This is my favorite class. It's just Kyle and me.

The way it should be.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks so much for the awesome reviews for the first chapter! I think we both really like how is story is coming along. Hopefully you all do too :)**  
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**Chapter 2**

Kyle's POV

Today is gonna be a good day. Not like yesterday at all. I thought about what Kenny said, and about what I said to Stan. He might've just been saying those things, but how will I know if I don't put it to the test? Still, I don't know that this is a good idea. I know this town is fucked up, but is acting gay REALLY the best way to go about getting girls to leave me alone?

I'm gonna think about it some more before I try it out.

For now, I've got English with fatass, and poor Stan looking so lost on the other side of the room. I wish we could sit together.

Something else has been stirring in the back of my brain too. If I WAS to pretend to be gay, what better way to convince the entire screaming brat population that I am than to actually HAVE a boyfriend? And, really, the most logical choice for that is simple.

I smile at Stan awkwardly as he looks back at me, waiting for the class to start.

I can't stop there though. I have to give off other signs of gayness. I make sure to blush when Stan looks at me. As much as I can force a blush that is. He's looking really weirded out at my reaction, but I'll explain it all to him later. For now, I have to take a mental note of how the others are reacting.

So far, nothing. Ha, I guess they WOULDN'T notice anything out of the ordinary. Stan and I always act like jackasses. Guess I'll have to up the gay somehow.

I make a little note to pass, as usual, only this one has Stan's name on it in very large, bold lettering. It has stupid crap like hearts drawn on it too. I'll pass it to him the long way, to make sure that everyone gets a chance to see it. Or, if the asshole to my right refuses to pass the note, at least he or she will see it. Then word will spread about me. Or, rumors would anyway. I could always deny the note was mine or something later if I wanted to. A note was a safe way to test the waters, I think.

I guess the only problem with that idea is that when the asshole to my right DOES see it, laughing, and opening it, they see the basic note to him. Me saying, "I'm bored. Let's play hangman." We know our own sign language, and this technique has gotten us out of actually _listening_ to boring lectures.

Still, I see the grins that arise in my fellow classmates as the note gets passed on. As it reaches Stan, I mentally note his humorous reaction.

Stan flips the note over and starts to do something or other on the back of it. As I wait for it to return, I wonder if the entire back row of the class thought it was a big joke too? Surely one of them had to wonder about me now, right?

Wow, I'm thinking about this too much. Have I even totally committed to the idea of acting gay with my best friend yet? It sure seems like it.

"Mr. Broflovski, if you insist on staring at Mr. Marsh throughout this period instead of paying attention, I'm going to see to it that you become visibly impaired to do so," Mr. Lewis tells me. Ha! Excellent. That fat old man just did me a favor.

I give a quick "embarrassed" smile in response to his probably empty threat, then stare straight ahead at the stupid asshole and make sure to lean forward in my chair in order to pretend to seem interested in whatever he's talking about. He had just made it clear to the entire class that I was staring at Stan though. Between that and the note, the girls in this class were a lot less likely to bug me all year. Hopefully they'd spread the word.

Stan, on the other hand, has turned all shades of red before he shrinks back into his chair. I know this because I have powerful peripheral vision. I taught myself how to harness it when my mom would go off on a rant and I wanted to watch TV. I can't help but feel sorry for the guy. He didn't know what he was getting into by being my friend.

Towards the end of class, I take a look around the room, and notice more than half of the student population--that would be the girls, and now, some of the guys--staring at me dreamily. What the fuck!

Great, I knew something was wrong with this plan. That's what I get for taking advice from Kenny of all people. Now all the GUYS in class are going to be crushing on me if I go through with this plan. And the girls don't seem to be taking the hint too well yet. Still, I have to do something about this. It can't keep being this way. At the VERY least, I need to let Stan in on what the hell is happening. Hmmm. Come to think of it, maybe HE'LL have some kind of idea on how to help me.

Soon enough, the bell rings, and I hurry out of the classroom, only to wait for Stan by the side of the opening. As he approaches it, he has a bewildered look covering his face, turns around, retreats back into the room, and stands beside Mr. Lewis's desk. I wait impatiently for a few minutes, but notice that he is actually _talking_ to that man outside of what we _have_ to. I wonder if I freaked him out so much he is trying to explain the situation.

It could be a lot of things. But I don't have time to find out anymore. Hopefully we'll get time in biology for me to explain.

Lunch comes around, and I'm in no mood today. The past few periods were hell. Girls STILL coming at me, and now a few boys are batting their eyes. Boys that I didn't even know where like that. I wonder if I'm just destined to have a long trail of groupie-wannabees. Not something I signed up for, and fuck them anyway. I don't want them!

"Heeeello, Kaaaahl." Ugh, speaking of unwanted creatures.

Cartman sits down at my table before I can protest. There isn't a single healthy thing on his lunch tray. Naturally. He'd better not try to steal any of my damn food either!

"How's your day going, Kahl?" he asks.

"What do you care?" I respond, avoiding his question. I'm sure he doesn't really want to know anyway.

This causes him to frown. When he does that, five extra chins appear underneath the original three. I observe them in fascination. "Why would I not care about one of my best friends?" he retorts. The chins disappear as he begins hauling the food in his mouth with his fingers.

"I'm not one of your best friends, Cartman."

I really was, but he never treated me like one...Then again, I guess I never treated him like one either. And here we are, after all these years, still talking.

"You wanna hang out after skewl?" he asks in that annoying drawl of his. Why the hell does he have a southern drawl? And only SOME of the time? We aren't even in the south!

"No," I grumble my reply. More important things to do after school. Stan. INVOLVING Stan.

There's that frown again. I wonder if it's true whether you make a face enough, you could get stuck in it. Haha, that'd be hilarious. "Kyle," he says properly, "I'm not entirely sure you believe my sincerity."

"Ya think?" I roll my eyes, in case he needs the point driven home even further in addition to the sarcasm of my vocal tone. "What was your first idea? Being a sicko con artist for the last..." I do the math in my head "...decade?"

He sighs. "You know, all I'm trying to do is be your friend. I haven't started any shit with you today, or yesterday, but all YOU wanna do is come at me with this...attitude. I know it's hard to trust me, okay? I know that. But I'm trying to earn your trust. I thought you'd be more open-minded. I really did."

I sigh. He's right. I hate it when he's right. "Okay, Cartman. Suppose I am. Suppose I BELIEVE you this time. What's the catch? How you gonna get me? Earn my trust so you can build me up just to bring me down harder?" I lean in. "Maybe I'll start to trust you when you can prove your worth to me."

"How can I do that when you won't give me a chance?" he questions. Dammit! He's doing it again! He's right. If I keep giving him shit for no reason, which is exactly what I'm doing right now, I'm just as bad as he is for randomly slurring my ethnicity, or telling me to fuck off when I'm just standing around. Still, even if he's right, it doesn't mean he's trustworthy. Not yet.

"Okay, Cartman," I decide.

"ERIC, you asshole!" He looks at me wide-eyed, but then continues to shovel a bag of potato chips into his mouth.

I grit my teeth. "ERIC. Okay. I'll...stop ripping on you." I point my fork at him. "But don't think just because I'm being nice to you that means you're my best friend."

"Oh of course not. We all Stan's got that job," he replies.

"Well, yeah." I shrug. "Where is he anyway?"

"I don't know dude." He smiles at me. It's the first mutually pleasant exchange between us in days...And probably in years.

Finally! After a long, repetitive day, it's finally time for biology class. Time to face Stan and explain all this to him. I sit down and make sure to reserve a seat for him, like always. This teacher didn't care that we sat together, and was just as clueless as...well, a lot of teachers.

I take a deep breath as I see him enter the room. Here goes nothing. I pull out his chair for him as he nears our area, but I can see the hesitance in his expression. I wonder what he's thinking.

Stan's POV

He's holding the chair out for me. This is too weird! He saved a seat for me yesterday too, but today he's acting really fucked up. I don't know if I should sit with him or not. I guess if I don't it might hurt his feelings. Worse, it might make another classroom aware of the fact that he...stares at me. Ugh. Okay, I guess I'll sit with him. For now anyway.

"Hey dude," I say. "What's up?" I take the seat away from his grasp, and sit down to my comfort level. I look directly up front, trying to avoid what I know him to be looking at me...like that...again.

"Hey," he replies. "Dude, we need to talk."

Oh, god! What could he possibly have to say to me? He's been acting funny the last couple days, and now he wants to talk about it. Why? Why can't we just ignore it and pretend it never happened? Why does he have to make things all awkward?

Then again, he's my best friend. If he's acting funny and he wants to talk about it, who am I to ignore him? Maybe he needs help or something. I have to talk about this with him. I'd be a lousy friend if I didn't.

"What about?"

"Well," he begins, and all of the sudden, the door in the front of the room slams shut. Hard. It startles me...making me practically jump out of my seat. I turn my attention up there, as does he, to a crazy looking, very tall guy.

"Uh, is there a Mister Broflovski in this class?" the guy asks.

"Uh, yeah" Kyle responds with a confused look on his face.

"You're needed in the nurse's office."

He mutters "what the fuck?" before gathering his books, shooting me a pleading look, and then leaving with the strange man. I breathe a sigh of relief. It's strange to say, but he was really starting to weird me out.

I never thought I'd say that about Kyle. I mean, we've had some weird lives. Shared some weird experiences together. But nothing like...that. I guess in a way I'm kind of curious to see what's going on. But at the same time, I don't want to know. That might just make it worse. Especially if it's what I think it is.

Worse yet, now I have to wait even longer to find out.

I turn my attention to the teacher. Shit, I actually have to pay attention today!

I glance up at the clock every two minutes. I know this cause I've counted to sixty twice to see if I'm still accurate. Who ever thought biology was a good subject to teach high school students anyway? They should be shot with a tranquilizer dart.

When's Kyle getting back? What the hell would the nurse's office want with him anyway? Oh god, maybe that's it! Maybe he's sick or something. I should ask him about that. I should also pay attention in class, but who can do that at a time like this? I mean, my best friend might have some life-threatening illness, and they wanna talk to me about biology? Fuck that!

Okay, okay, it's probably NOT a life-threatening illness. It's more like a distraction from biology. Still, SOMETHING weird is going on here.

I nervously tap my pencil on the side of the desk. That gets boring after two more minutes, so I steadily balance the pencil between my fingers and make it look like it's rubbery.

If Kyle is sick, he needs someone to catch up on the homework, write it down, tell him what he missed. He's smart, so I don't need to take notes, but I sure as hell should collect the homework and stop by tonight to give it to him.

I should get him some soup, too. Soup helps with a lot of illnesses. But, maybe he'd puke it up or something. I don't want that. Maybe his sickness is an eating thing? I guess I'll have to find that out later too.

The bell rings, and I march myself directly up to the teacher. "Mr. Maloney, is there anything I should bring home to Kyle?"

He looks at me funny. "Kyle Broflovski?"

I nod.

"The kid who left at the beginning of class?"

"I think he might be sick."

"...But THEY took HIM out. Not the other way around," he explains.

"...Oh. Right."

Now feeling like a total idiot, I retreat from the desk and head for the next class as soon as I can. Or at least I try to. I still can't get Kyle off my mind. Maybe I should at least go to the nurse's office to see what's going on?

I decide to duck into the nurses on my way TO my next class. Unfortunately, the door is locked, and when I knock on it, the nurse turns to me disapprovingly and gestures for me to go. I swear I can see the back of Cartman's head though. What would he be doing in there with Kyle? This I'm interested in.

I want to stick around and find out, but if I do I'll be late again. I hate being late, and I already have been today. I see them talking, I think. I wish I could read lips. They're heading for another room now. Shit! What's going on!

The bell rings.

Meh! I guess I'll find to find out later. I'll call Kyle. Yeah! That's what I'll do. I'll call him after school. I'll have to, since we don't have another class together today.

3:05 rolls around, and I'm all but jumping out of my seat to get out of this room. Class without Kyle is boring. I jog up to my locker, taking out my necessary books for homework out, and glancing around. I spy Kenny walking down the hall. He acknowledges me, and I wait for his arrival.

"Sup?" he asks me. Does he REALLY want to know? Cuz at this point, I might be willing to vent to him.

"Do you know where Cartman's at?" I scream at him. I feel the need to shake him by the shoulders, but I refrain. I might shake something loose and kill him. Shaking to death. A new one.

Kenny shrugs, but studies my expression. "What's wrong, dude?"

"Kyle got called out of class today and I don't know why. But I know it has something to do with Cartman, so it can't be good."

"You sure? Cartman seemed pretty sick a few hours ago. I told him to get his fat butt to the nurses'. Dumbass didn't think of that himself," Kenny tells me, which thoroughly confuses me.

Then I think back to what Kyle said about Cartman wanting to be his friend. I shake my head. "Something's not right here, Ken."

Kenny shrugged. "You need to relax a little bit. I suggest drinking."

I frown. Kenny's medicine for EVERYTHING. "Na, thanks dude, but I've gotta get to Kyle's to find out what's up." I wave him goodbye, watch him stand there for a few more seconds, and then he slowly walks off in the opposite direction. Ha, he's probably drunk right now.

I head in the direction of Kyle's house while also dialing him on my cell phone. This way I'll be covered no matter what. If he answers I can get an explanation right away. If he doesn't, I'm still not wasting precious seconds by standing around talking on the phone. Instead, I'm already heading toward his house. Either way I'll have my answer soon.

He doesn't answer. But I DO get to his house in record speed. And as I pound ferociously on the door, I see shadows from inside moving around. I can hear voices, and then the next thing I see, is Kyle's emotionless face.

"Hey dude," I greet him. "What the hell's going on?"

"Uh...I just got back from school and I'm answering the door?" he replies, unaware that the abnormal nurse shit has practically given me a heart attack.

I scowl at him slightly. "You KNOW what I'm talking about! What the hell was with the nurse's office thing!"

I study his face. He appears confused, surprised, and even a little happy as he tells the story.

"Cartman got 'hurt' and conned the nurse into letting him go home. He was too 'hurt' to drive, so he asked them to let me take him home."

I open my mouth to speak, but find that I am speechless. Cartman HELPED him?

Kyle's shit-eating grin makes me hate him for causing such a panic attack, and I push him. Hard.

"Hey! It's not MY fault they fell for his bullshit!"

"You coulda told me that ya know!"

Kyle shrugs. "Why should I have? I knew you'd ask me soon enough, and here you are."

I begin to argue with him, but instead sigh. He's of course right. "Alright, so what, Cartman's helping you now?"

"I told you he said he wanted to be friends." Kyle pauses and looks at me strangely. "I think he actually MEANS it, dude!"

I raise an eyebrow. This is still really weird. "That's...really weird," I repeat out loud.

"I know," he agrees.

I lower my voice and invite myself inside as I pose the next question. "So...So what'd you do? Just ditch and go hang out?"

What Kyle tells me next is even more shocking than the thought of Cartman helping him.

"Actually, I went to the mall and bought some gay stuff."

I blink. "G-Gay stuff?"

Kyle nods. "You know, the clothes, the frilly accessories, the..." he drops his volume, "...toys."

My eyes bug out of my skull. "YOU DID **_WHAT_?** !"

He looks at me smugly. "Oooh," I say. "I get it. That was the way Cartman got you."

He shakes his head at me. "No, Cartman just had me take him home. His gift to me was a free pass outta school for the rest of the day. The gay stuff's a way for me to get girls to leave me alone. I don't know if I'm gonna do it yet or not, but now I only have ten days to decide if I wanna get my money back from the stores. Hopefully it'll light a fire under my ass and I can figure it out."

"Kyle, you're talking crazy," I say, begging for him to slow down with my hands. "So...Cartman...helped...you," I reluctantly accept. "Then you went to the mall to buy GAY stuff? To keep the girls away?"

He nods.

"Mind if you explain that one to me?"

"It was Kenny's idea," he begins. "If I tell girls I'm gay they'll fuck off and let me breathe. Problem is, I've kinda been testing it out lately...and well, now some GUYS are looking at me. There are a lot of negative consequences to this. But, I can't think of anything better, so..." He shrugs.

"...So you're going to act queer to ward off the chicks," I say matter-of-factly.

"Exactly."

"And what about the guy admirers that you now have?" I challenge.

"Well, that's what I kinda need to talk to you about..."

I take a seat on his couch. It looks like I'm finally getting to the bottom of Kyle's weird behavior. I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. I make room so he can sit next to me. I watch Kyle as he explains more, seeing him make the appropriate quotation marks where necessary.

"If I'm gonna be 'gay' I need to be 'gay' and 'taken' by someone. That way the girls won't just get replaced by guys."

"Uh-huh," I nod, trying to understand.

He looks at me blankly. "I need a boyfriend."

"Uh...huh..." I say, pretty sure of where this is going, but not giving him any ideas.

"Someone who will truthfully act like my boyfriend. It has to be realistic, Stan," he continues, and I feel a strange feeling in my stomach.

"...Kay..."

Kyle rubs his temples in frustration. After a minute, he looks up to me again. "Jesus Christ, do I have spell it out for you?"

"N-no," I stutter. I try to clarify the situation absolutely, but fail miserably. "So...You want us to...? You want...me to...to PRETEND to..."

He nods. "Yeah, you get it. So...what do you think?"

"..."

"...Stan?" He waves his hand in front of my face. I try to speak, but nothing is coming out yet. He continues.

"I know it's weird okay? But it's just acting. It has to look real, and frankly, we already hang out enough that I think people would buy it."

"You want me to be your boyfriend?" I blurt out. Frankly, it doesn't feel as weird to say as it sounds. I don't tell him that.

"Dude, you said you'd be my best friend no matter what. Remember?" He's referring to the other day when he asked me all of those random questions. Which now, thanks to this conversation, all make sense.

"Yeah," I admit, defeated.

"So will you do it?"

"Kyle, I'm still gonna be your best friend okay? I...I..."

"Stan, please. It's getting out of hand. Kenny's SISTER is hitting on me for the love of God!"

"Ew..." I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

"I KNOW!" he screams. "Dude, I need this. I need you. You know I wouldn't be asking this if it wasn't an emergency..."

I sigh. Kyle's sure got it "rough." Every girl in town wants to jump his bones. And now, apparently some guys too. He's got looks that could kill, and all he wants is to become unnoticed. How weird is that? "Yeah, I'll help you out," I tell him.

"You will?" He smiles at me. I have no choice but to smile back.

"Yeah," I say with much more certainty in my voice. Who am I kidding? I'd do anything for Kyle. Especially if it makes him smile like that.

...Because I like my friend to be happy. Yeah...

"So how do I act like your gay boyfriend?"

Kyle shrugs. "How the hell should I know? I've never been gay before."

"Uh...maybe you should try putting your arm around me," I suggest. "For practice."

I monitor his actions as he scoots closer to me, looks unsure of how to do such a simple task, and then falls back into the couch. "I don't know if I can do that, Stan."

"Pfft, whatever, dude. You do it to me all the time. You did it today before class!"

"But that's different..."

"Don't think about it that way! 'Sides, how are you ever gonna be believable if you can't even touch me?"

I watch him as he rolls his eyes. Ha! For once I'M right!

"Fine."

He literally throws up his hands in defeat and lets one drop around me. His hand brushes my shoulder, which means his arm is around me. Barely, but it's something at least.

"There!" he says.

I smile again. It's actually kinda funny. Here Kyle wants to come off as this totally real, totally believable gay guy. He goes out and buys the fucking clothes and toys just to keep up appearances. But now we get down to the actually looking gay part, and NOW he's all weirded out. Pussy.

Kyle looks at me, his arm still draped around my shoulder. If I didn't know any better, I swear he's studying my lips.

"What," I ask him unsurely.

"Nothing," he replies quickly. "What now?"

"Um..." I think for a minute, and find myself moving closer to him. We're kind of half-cuddling, I guess, only I'm not really touching him like he is me. I guess I'm getting used to this, but isn't that the idea here? It is, so that's a GOOD thing. Right?

"Well, for one thing, we should get our characters' back stories straight, " I reason. "How long've we been boyfriends?"

Kyle makes a face. Clearly, he hadn't thought that far. "Not for long. But we just decided 'the hell with it' today. We're through hiding."

"Oookay, how long is not too long?" It amuses me that I'm actually the logical one in this situation. I'm the one that wants to know the 'facts'.

"I don't know!" Heh. His eyebrows are furrowing now. It's kinda funny when he gets pissed off like that. Is 'funny' the right word for it? Hell I don't know. But when he makes that face, it's something good feeling.

"Two weeks, okay? We've been together two weeks. In high school time that counts for a lot."

"But I've been hiding it for two years," Kyle adds.

"Why two years?"

"Matches the two weeks. Easiest to remember." He taps his temple with his index finger. "PLUS, it means I've been not interested in girls that long."

"Kay." I nod. "What about me?"

"Stan, why would I know how long YOU'VE been living in denial? You have to figure some things out on your own."

"Don't take that tone of voice with me, dude," I tease, trying to get the hang of this whole idea. Kyle smiles after he realizes I'm joking.

"Seriously, dude. Figure it out."

I laugh. "Um...I've recently been into you. You kept trying to get me to notice you, but I didn't start until about a month ago," I decide, having fun coming up with this fake scenario.

"And we've been together two weeks." Kyle repeats. "Which means after a week, you were totally hot for me." He seems to be bragging about this. It makes us both laugh a bit.

I feel an unfamiliar stirring sensation in my stomach, but quickly shake it off. "Me and the entire school," I tease, and he shoves me with a grin on his face.

I think we might actually be able to pull off this boyfriend business.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Kenny's POV

I feel pretty bad for Katie. She's hot for a guy she's never going to get. Personally I don't discriminate against freshman girls, but I know Kyle does. He has "morality" or some bullshit. On top of that, he'd never go for her anyway. It's weird for guys to be doing their pal's sister. Or mother. Or ex or what have you. Kyle is never going to like Katie for all these reasons, and someone has to let her know it.

I think Kevin is the right man for the job.

That stupid lugnut still lives at home. I wouldn't be surprised if he lives here until his mid 40's. He doesn't do shit, he doesn't pay for shit, and he's just taking up space. On the couch. Where I want to sit.

"Hey Kev," I acknowledge him, trying my best to avoid his overbearing smell.

"Hey," he replies before taking a hit off of his home-made joint. God, maybe it's true what they say in those drug commercials? Maybe if you get into a harmful, addictive substance, you really DO end up a loser.

Which reminds me, I need another beer.

"Can you talk to Katie?"

"Sure," he says. Then he sits there, slumping even further down into his ass groove and scooting his left hand just into the rim of his sweat pants. I stare at him, waiting for more.

"You don't even know what it's about," I say.

He smacks his lips together. "I told her you'd catch her and bitch her out."

"Catch her doing what?"

"Stealing your porn."

"...Ew!" I wrinkle my nose in disgust. I guess I shouldn't be too freaked out. I mean, millions of people are getting off to the same stuff I am, and some are getting off to even sicker stuff. Still, this is my SISTER doing it! That's just awkward. Personally I hope she's watching it for the male actors. Not that I'm against lesbians, but I'll be damned if someone's gonna swipe my only porn with no cocks in it. That's the best kind of porn! At least for a straight guy.

"Not that," I correct.

"You found out she's using your razor?" he says with bit of curiosity.

"For what?" I ask, really not wanting to know the answer.

He starts laughing, his beer belly jiggling along with the rest of his flubber. "Ha, this show's hilarious," he tells me, pointing to the TV with this joint.

I shake my head. "I mean about something else, dude."

"Oh. What?"

"You know my friend Kyle? Well she's hot for him. Along with about every other girl at school. Problem is, Kyle's obviously not interested in her. Someone should let her know this. You know?"

"Yeah, I've seen Kyle." The way he says it is creepy--I don't want to know what he means by it.

"Will you tell her that?" I ask impatiently. His lazy loserness is getting to me, I have to leave.

"Sure."

I look at him to make sure he heard me, but his focus never left the TV. I'll check back later. I stand up, getting ready to leave, but I stop at the doorway, turning around again. "What did Katie do with my razor?!" I demand, it just now sinking in.

Kevin doesn't answer. He also doesn't move to go talk to Katie. He just sits there smoking his stupid pot.

"So, you're gonna talk to her, right?"

"Yeah totally."

"When?" I press.

"When what?" he replies.

"When are you gonna talk to her?"

"Talk to who?"

I sigh in frustration. He obviously wasn't going to do shit. No big surprise there. I march toward Katie's room. I guess I have to be the wise big brother on this one. I knock on her door, because God knows what she's doing in there with my porn and my razor.

"Go away!" I hear a very teenage girl voice yell. Ah, so angry and unnecessarily violent. Yep, she's a McCormick all right.

"We need to talk," I say in my brotherly voice. It comes in handy with her. She recognizes it right away.

"I don't have anything of yours!" she yells back, obviously panicked.

"Besides my porn and my razor, I'm sure you don't. Now let me in!"

"I said go away!" she repeats.

"I'm not mad," I assure him. "I just wanna talk to you. About Kyle."

I hear a second of absolute chaos, and then the door creaks open, exposing her very excited face. "Did he say something to you about me!?!"

I force my way inside the room while I still can. She'll no doubt want to close the door again in a minute.

"No" I respond. "That's why I wanna talk to you."

She shuts the door behind me, giving me a scowl. "I didn't say you could come in."

I go over to sit on her bed, lifting up the mattress and pulling out some of MY porn magazines. "Nice hiding place," I mumble.

"Do you mind?" she asks me, tapping her foot on the ground with her arms crossed.

"No not at all," I say, rummaging through the underside of her bed, finding some more of MY stuff. I sit back up on the bed once my hands are full. "Stay away from Kyle."

"What? Why?" she asks. She doesn't seem embarrassed at all about the reclaiming of my sex stash. Yep, she's not adopted at all.

"Because Katie, you're wasting your time on him. You're cool and everything, but Kyle's just...not into you. Ya know?"

"Not yet he isn't. But I'll win him over."

I snort. Yeah right. "Kyle's NOT interested in freshmen."

"He'll be with THIS freshman," she fires back.

I growl. She pisses the hell out of me. This makes me think of Kyle and I's conversation in the bathroom. I wonder if he decided to take my advice. I could always try it out on her and see. "Katie, he's not interested in GIRLS."

"You're only saying this to be an asshole, Kenny! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"

I have think of a cover story, and fast. Shit, knowing Kyle, it wouldn't surprise me if he DID accept my suggestion. And to be gay, he'd have to have a boyfriend. And, that means that he asked Stan.

Haha, it wouldn't surprise me if Stan actually falls for Kyle during this, too. "Katie, Kyle's gay. AND he's taken." Man, I really hope I know Kyle as well as I think I do.

"By who?!" she demands to know, her hands on her hips.

"Stan Marsh," I blurt out. Yep, no going back now. "You might be able to threaten all the other girls with a broken bottle Katie, but you can't fix gay."

She sighs angrily, moving over so that she is inches away from my face. "You better not be making this up, Kenny. If I find out that you are lying, I will see to it that you die for the last time," she threatens.

"Well it's not exactly magic," I explain. "He never showed an interest in you anyway. Magic would be if he STOPPED being gay and STARTED liking jail bate."

"You're only saying this to be an asshole, Kenny! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"

I have think of a cover story, and fast. Shit, knowing Kyle, it wouldn't surprise me if he DID accept my suggestion. And to be gay, he'd have to have a boyfriend. And, that means that he asked Stan.

Haha, it wouldn't surprise me if Stan actually falls for Kyle during this, too. "Katie, Kyle's gay. AND he's taken." Man, I really hope I know Kyle as well as I think I do.

"By who?!" she demands to know, her hands on her hips.

"Stan Marsh" I blurt out. Yep, no going back now. "You might be able to threaten all the other girls with a broken bottle Katie, but you can't fix gay."

She sighs angrily, moving over so that she is inches away from my face. "You better not be making this up, Kenny. If I find out that you are lying, I will see to it that you die for the last time," she threatens.

I laugh nervously, but she can't tell. Bitch.

---

I'm not scared of Katie. At all. She's fourteen. She can't do shit to me.

So why am I so worried about this?! What if she DID find out I was bullshitting? Lesser things have killed me before. The last thing I need is death by sister. That kid is fucking crazy and I am NOT going to risk it. Dying hurts too much.

I search the halls the next day, trying desperately to find Kyle. Did she confront him? What if she does? We have to get the story straight! So to speak.

I've decided I'm going to tell Kyle he HAS to act gay now. No going back. For his sake and mine. I scan the student body for a tall red puff of hair when suddenly, there he is.

Holding hands with Stan.

Oh my god he's holding hands with STAN! Haha, he took my advice! And my ass is saved! I happily jog over to my "gay" buddies, wanting their back-story so I can help 'em out.

"Dudes!" I smile. "What's up?!"

"Hey Kenny," they greet me in unison. Kyle gives me an especially toothy grin, silently thanking me for what he obviously considers kick ass advice.

I lean forward. "Give me the info."

Kyle leans in to meet me. "I liked him for two years, we started dating two weeks ago, we're finally showing ourselves to the world."

I lean back, completely updated with what I need to know. "You two make such a cute couple," I say in my best gushing girl voice. It's enough to make me puke. But, as I eyeball the girls around me, I see their confused stares and crushed emotions. Ha!

"I think it's working," Stan whispers. He must have noticed the stares from the stupid, broken-hearted girls too.

"Yeah," I reply. Man, at this rate I should write an advice column or something. This plan is full-proof. After a couple weeks of this they could tone down the faggy stuff and it'd all be normal again.

Well, as normal as this town is anyway.

I hear two girls go "aww", and out of the corner of my eye, they present puppy dog faces that lead me to believe they think Stan and Kyle together are _cute_. Okay, so maybe some girls in this school will want to stay around Kyle MORE because of his boyfriend...but I decide it's best not to tell him that quite yet.

At least Katie'll stay away.

I decide to play along. "I'm so happy you decided to come out!" I say rather loudly, causing everyone in school to look over at me.

Stan and Kyle glare at me. I guess I'm not that good at acting subtle. This is actually kind of cool, I guess. Now the three of us have this big, elaborate secret together.

"Yeah, well, we were just tired of hiding," Kyle casually agrees. Yeah, he's a much better actor than me.

"Yeah. We are as God made us, and stuff." Stan nods. He's not quite as convincing as Kyle, but then, Kyle's had more time to prepare for this role.

"Hey you guys!" I hear Cartman squeak as he rounds the corner, catching an eye full of Kyle's Jewfro. "How's it going?" I can always tell when it's Cartman, without even seeing him. And I can always tell when Cartman's up to something by the sweet tone in his voice.

And Cartman is up to something. I turn to greet him, waiting for him to notice Stan and Kyle's...bond...and start ripping on them.

"Fine," Kyle answers. "How are you?" What the fuck? That was a little too polite for a Kyle/Cartman greeting.

"I'm awesome," he responds. I think he just noticed them holding hands. This should be good. His face twists into some sort of confusion. I think the insults are brewing--there're probably too many for him to narrow it down. He glances up to Kyle's bright and cheery face. Then down to their interlocked hands. Then to Stan. Then back to Kyle again.

"Um...Kyyyle?" he asks. "If I can be so bold, what, may I ask is that you are doooing?"

"I'm holding Stan's hand," Kyle explains.

Cartman blinks, staring at their interlocked fingers once again in puzzlement. "...Yes, you certainly are. But um, Kyle, don't you think that that looks kinda...well...gay?"

Stan and I are looking at the two rather calm conversing boys in wonderment. Am I missing something? He must be too. How are they being this nice to each other? Cartman should be calling them flaming faggots and belittling Kyle's religion while Kyle tears him a new asshole and screams profanities.

"Yes, well, Stan and I were tired to hiding our love."

My eyes immediately snap to Cartman for a reaction. "Your love?" he repeats questioningly. Cartman's eyebrows are raised now. He'd better insult Kyle soon. This feels like the fucking twilight zone.

Cartman continues. "Since when are you and Stan-"

"I'll explain later," Kyle promises with a cut off and a wink.

Cartman blinks. "But Kyle-"

"Stan and I have to go to our locker now," Kyle interrupts once more. He tugs on Stan's limp arm. The poor boy's in shock, as am I. What the fuck is wrong with this picture?

Cartman continues staring down the hallway long after Stan and Kyle have turned the corner. I continue staring at Cartman. "What the hell was that?" I ask him.

"You tell me!" he replies in a more demanding tone. "Since when do they share a locker?! Since when do they hold hands?! The HELL, dude!"

"Jealous?" I tease with a smirk.

He glares at me. "I hate you so much Kenny."

"Yeah, well, you don't have enough love in you to cover both Kyle AND me."

"God dammit, what are they doing?!" he demands to know again.

I shrug. "Kyle said he'd tell you, so wait for him to tell you. I think it's pretty obvious what they were doing anyway. The bigger question is: Since when are you and Kyle civil to each other?"

He laughs nervously. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play stupid, fatass. You haven't even muttered the word 'fag' or 'Jew' in the last few days. Come to think of it, you haven't said anything mean about Kyle. Mind explaining that?"

He glares at me now, while still remaining silent about the questions. "I don't answer to poor people. They answer to me. Go wash my car or something!"

With that, he storms off in a bit of a huff. Well, at least he's back to normal.

---

Stan's POV

This day is going great. Not only have I gotten more attention in the past three hours than I've gotten the entire three years I've been at this school, but this boyfriend thing means that Kyle and I get to see each other that much more. And for a guy who never gets to see his super best friend, I can say I'm pretty stoked about it.

...Because he's my best friend.

Cartman didn't rip on us earlier. I thought that was weird. I guess maybe he really is trying to be Kyle's friend, or something. Some people at school probably will rip on us for this at some point, but it's cool. Now me and Kyle can cry discrimination. Or if they try to kick our asses, we could scream hate crime. Sure those laws are bullshit, but why not take advantage of a system designed to give you special privileges in the first place? Anyway, the point is I'm finally more popular than ever. This is sweet!

"Hey dude," I say, grinning, as we leave Mr. Lewis's room together. He came over to my desk at the ring of the bell and wrapped his arm around my waist. I was so shocked, I couldn't say anything for a minute.

"I gotta walk with you to our next classes," he informs me. I feel like his shorter-than-him and definitely smaller-than-him bodyguard. He refuses to go anywhere without me. I hope we can pull this off...for his sake. Kenny told me he thinks we're overdoing it for just having the guts to come out today. Maybe I should tell Kyle to back off a little.

Then again, as long as his arm is around me, I am recognizable. And I like this feeling.

"How was class?" I ask, deciding to make conversation as long as we're walking very noticeably down the halls together.

"Fine," he says. "Yours?"

"Meh, fine."

"Dude, we should cut class sometime to "make out" in the bathroom or something," he muses. But he says it loud enough that a few girls aww and a few guys look disgusted. He turns his head and smiles warmly at me. The girls are right to crush on him. Kyle _is_ a pretty good-looking guy. Especially when he smiles like that.

"Um, yeah." I manage to get out. Why was I so nervous? Probably because I would have to tell him to back off. Kyle is very...into character with this stuff. I have to tell him to slow down. He's trying too hard.

...Yep, I really should tell him to give it a rest.

...At some point...

...In the near future...

...Maybe.

For now, I'll focus on what's happening right in front of me.

"Alright, cool." He turns to me. "Well, I gotta get to class," he tells me. This is where we HAVE to part ways. "See you later, cutie," he says, grinning. _Cutie_? Then I feel his hand travel down my back until it lightly pinches my ass. His hand pinches my ass. And now he's walking away, me too stupid to reply.

His hand pinched my ass. It just...reached down and...pinched it! You know, for someone who isn't actually gay, Kyle sure is convincing about it! Jesus Christ! I hope I'm not being expected to TOP this stuff. Kyle's...way more into character than me. I don't think Gay Stan would be grabbing ass so soon.

...Then again, according to our story Gay Kyle liked Gay Stan for 2 years. Of course he's gonna be eager to show his affection. It's kinda nice knowing that Gay Kyle liked Gay Stan before Gay Stan liked Gay Kyle. Gay Kyle, like normal Kyle, is just as hot and just as popular. Why does he want Gay Stan? Gay Stan must have something to offer.

I'm thinking about this WAY too much.

I should just go to my next class. I should just put it out of my mind, go to class, and have a normal day. I HAVE to. I can't act weird about it. Gay Stan is supposed to be happy and unphased by Gay Kyle touching him, even if has only been two weeks.

Then again, maybe Gay Kyle IS moving too fast. Do I have a right to be upset about this? I mean, my character. Does my character have the right? Would Gay Me really want someone touching my butt so soon? Even if it WAS Kyle?

"Hey fag," Cartman greets. I didn't even see him walk up. "Day-dreaming about ass-ramming your boyfriend?"

What the fuck? Is he just being nice to Kyle? Why! "Fuck you, fatass," I retort.

"No, I believe that's reserved for Kahl."

I stare at him blankly. "You want to fuck Kyle? That explains a lot." I watched amused as he twitches, mutters something inaudible, and then leaves me alone.

Good, now that he's gone I can get back to...thinking about Kyle too much...

The bell rings. I'm late again. Ah shit!

I'm so glad school's over! It's so hard pretending to pay attention when I have stuff on my mind. I still need to talk to Kyle, so I will. I'm home now, so I'll go to my room and call him. I need to do this on the phone. In person would be way too awkward. I close the door to my bedroom and turn up my TV. No way am I risking my family overhearing this fucked up conversation. I go to my bed, grab my phone, and dial.

Two rings, and a cheerful voice responds. "Hey, dude," Kyle greets. He knows it's me. How cute.

Cute?

"Uh...hey Kyle," I begin. How am I supposed to ask something like this?

"What's up?" he responds.

"Um, nothing," I answer. Of course that's a lie. "How're you?"

"Good."

"That's good," I say, stalling. I know I'm stalling. Wouldn't you stall? It's not everyday you ask your friend-turned-fake-boyfriend to not grab your ass.

"You okay, Stan?" he asks, sensing my uneasiness.

"Yeah" I assure him quickly. Probably too quickly.

"...'Kay," he replies, obviously playing along. He tries to ease me into what's on my mind next.

"Can I help you with something?"

I rub the back of my neck, which he can't see. "Well, actually-"

"Hey dude! You've gotta come over here now! There's a Star Trek marathon on right now!" he interrupts, flustering me.

"What?"

"Channel 12!" he responds.

Curiously, I turn it on.

"Sweet!" I answer.

"Come on over," he repeats.

I blink. "I can't. If I come over there I'll miss an episode."

"So?" Kyle asks incredulously. "We'll watch it together."

Together. The word sends a weird chill down my back. Not a bad chill. I was hot anyway. "O...kay," I say, momentarily forgetting the original reason for my call. I put my shoes back on and head out the door, doing as my "boyfriend" says.

I arrive in record time, my asthma completely kicked in as I charge Kyle's front door. I go to knock, only to find that he'd left it unlocked and slightly cracked for me already. I walk in, wheezing, to find him seated on the couch with a few of our favorite snacks lined up on a coffee table.

"You didn't miss anything good," he replies, already knowing what I was going to ask when my breath returned.

I wheeze as I stumble over to the couch, plopping down curiously close to him. It's only a few seconds later that I realize I don't have to pretend to be his boyfriend in the confines of his own house.

But he calls me out on it anyway.

"It's cool," he smiles at me. "School's over with."

I inhale. "Right."

"I have your favorite snack," Kyle says, grinning.

"Thanks, dude."

He looks at me with that stupid grin plastered all over his face for a few minutes before I ask him 'what' with my eyes. "Do I get a thank-you kiss?" he jokes, making me feel the need to shove him off the couch.

"You just said school was over with," I remind him.

He snickers. "So? I'm just messing with you."

"Funny," I respond, not finding it very funny at all. I look at him once more before digging my hands into the nice big bowl of my favorite snack.

This won't be so bad, I thought to myself. I'm hanging out with Kyle, which is always nice, and we have Star Trek on which is even better.

Unfortunately, God decided to make my day even more awkward.

"Oh dude, this is the one where they kiss," Kyle reminds me.

"Kiss?" I ask, my ears perking up and causing Kyle to curiously stare at me.

He looks around the room with a raised eyebrow before his eyes settle onto me again. "Yeah...?" The last part of his word is of higher pitch than the first part.

At that moment, my eyes focus on the screen. It IS the one where they kissed. Captain Kirk kisses Lt. Uhura at the very moment, but I still can't help but notice Kyle's reaction when I questioned it. Possibly because I should've picked up what he was talking about easily, but possibly because of something else.

"Dude, relax!" he tells me, noticing my stiffened body. I take his advice and lower myself back into the couch, finding that I sink in and to the left--closer to Kyle. He doesn't seem to care, or notice.

Why does HE never notice these things?

I'm thirsty. I need something to drink. Water. Water's in the kitchen, that sounds good.

"You want something to drink?" I ask him hoarsely.

Again, he eyes me like I'm crazy. It is right then that he picks up his can of soda and rattles it, illustrating how full it is. God, I'm an idiot.

Speechless from the embarrassment, I nod my head and move toward the kitchen, away from Kyle. I get myself some water, but it doesn't help much. I chug it down and pour a second cup, which I promptly splash on my face. What's WRONG with me?

"Dude, you're missing it!" Kyle squeals from the other room. I curiously peak out my head out of the kitchen and watch Kyle as his whole body constricts before laughing wildly and slamming his hand repeatedly on the couch.

We always laugh at the stupid shit.

"Just a second," I say panicked. Why panicked?

SHIT! I just remembered. The whole reason I came over here. The whole reason I am so tense. Kyle. Ass. My ass. Touched...

I return to the couch, this time sitting far at the other end of it, away from Kyle. He doesn't seem to notice or care again, but he does notice the water on my face.

"How exactly do they drink water on your planet?" he teases me.

I ignore his jab and clear my throat silently. "I need to talk to you."

Kyle feigns concern and turns his attention fully to me. "Uh oh, was I bad?"

I blink. That sounds so dirty in my head.

"Well, kinda," I admit honestly. Kinda? Only kinda? He touched one of my private areas! I should be PISSED! I SHOULD be pissed, but I can't be because it's Kyle. My inability to get pissed really pisses me off!

"I'm sorry," he says back, this time being completely serious. "What'd I do?"

Whatever anger I was trying to build up just vanished thanks to his sincere apology. That son of a bitch.

"You...uh..." my throat goes instantly dry again. Damn that non-hydrating water.

"Stan?" he asks, mildly concerned.

"You violated...you violated..." Jesus Christ I sound like Jimmy. Just spit it out. I let out a puff of air. "You touched my ass."

There. I said it.

"...Oh," he replies. "Did I pinch it too hard or something?"

"What?!" I squeak out. "Kyle, no. I'm saying you touched my butt! That's not cool dude."

He snorts. "Relax, Stan! I'm playing the part!"

"Well I'm not ready for the gay you to make that kind of pass at the gay me!" I explain.

"That's not what you said last night," he jokes again. Does he think this is some kind of GAME?! Wait. It is. It IS a game, isn't it?

"Kyle, I just don't think...our characters would be doing that yet," I explain, softening the blow and making myself sound way less homophobic.

He turns to me, now listening more intently. "Okay. Well then what kinda pass SHOULD I be making at you?"

This shuts me up. How the hell should I know! "Uh..."

Kyle smirks in self-satisfaction. "Come on Stan. You want me to put my hand in your back pocket? How 'bout I play with your hair? Or suck at your ear?"

"Ewwwww, dude!"

"Oh, I get it now."

"Get what?"

Kyle nods, standing up from the sofa. "YOU wanna be the guy in this relationship. Is that it?"

"WHAT?!" I feel a blush coming on. Now Kyle's bending over. What the hell?

"Go on," he replies with impatience and sarcasm. "Be the big strong man and pinch MY ass if it'll make you feel better."

"...I...I...I-I don't wanna pinch your ass!" I shakily reply. This is freaking me out.

"Just do it! You know you want to," he coaxes.

"Kyle! There's NO pinching of asses going on in this relationship!"

"Just give it a little squeeze..."

"I'm NOT touching your ass!" I hiss uncomfortably.

"I'll just back right up into your hands..."

"I won't do it!"

"And you'll grab hold."

"KYLE!" I scream. I've curled up into a little ball on the couch and Kyle's ass is about two centimeters away from my very hidden-by-arms face. We are total freaks.

"It's just an ass dude."

"YOU'RE an ass!"

Finally, Kyle stands up. Thank god!

"Stan, seriously, you need to relax. My character's been in love with you for two years now. Of course he's gonna want to touch you."

"Well MY character isn't comfortable with it!" I repeat. "Your character should respect my character's boundaries!"

"Stan, I'm sorry okay? I should've warned you first and I'm sorry I didn't okay? But seriously, you don't need to be THIS freaked out about it."

I close my mouth, waiting for a retort. "I'm...I'm not used to getting that much attention," I admit weakly.

Kyle laughs. "Trust me, dude. A pinch on the ass is nothing. Try getting groped by ten females who you can't even name."

I blink and reply with some sarcasm of my own. "Yeah, that sounds really horrible."

He laughs and sits back down again. "I'm sorry okay?"

"'Kay." I smile at him.

"It's just that I had to do SOMETHING to show people at school we're 'together.' Otherwise we're gonna look the same as we always do. I needed to do something crazy like that to show them we're not just close friends anymore."

"I don't think anyone noticed besides me," I tell him honestly. Uh oh, that was bad.

"WHAT?!" he cries. Then a wide grin spreads across his face. "Well then guess I'll have to do something a bit more public then." He pretends to be a predator on the couch, preparing to pounce on his prey. But when he jumps, he uses only half of his body and falls just short of my body. I guess he did it for the look of terror that spreads across my face, because when he looks at me, he doubles over in painful-sounding laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks everyone for such positive feedback to this story! This is where things REALLY start to get juicy :)

---

Chapter 4

**Stan's POV**

It's finally the weekend. That means it's time to party! Now that I'm "with Kyle" I am getting invited to a lot more of them. It's a technicality sure, but I'm taking it. I'm not stupid. The only bad part is that it means keeping up the act with Kyle outside of school. You'd think that girls would stop hitting on a "gay" guy, but you'd be wrong. Kyle and I BOTH had girls all over us, which was new for me. Kyle didn't have as many on him as he usually gets, so I guess his plan is working a little.

"Feel like going out?" he had asked me at the end of classes on Friday, linking his arm in mine and grinning like a madman. To which I, of course, nodded my head until something in my brain shook loose.

Now I'm staring at my clock waiting for my "date" to show up and drive us over to Milly...or Mindy...or Mandy's house. Some chick. I don't really care who she is, Kyle and I are going out!

On the town. Going to a party.

It should be pretty sweet. I run a comb through my hair and check myself out one more time in the mirror. I guess I look okay for going to a party. It's not a fancy party or anything. Actually, I have no idea WHAT kind of party it is. Probably just a back to school, end of the week party where everyone relieves stress by smoking, drinking, and having sex. Of course I won't bother telling my parents that.

I HOPE it's that kinda party, 'cause I don't have a gift or anything.

The doorbell rings.

"Hey there, good lookin'," Kyle greets me as I open the door. This causes me to blush because, clearly, he's the one that's looking sharp.

"You ready?" He extends his arm like a true gentleman. Guess his rule is if we could possibly be spotted, we act the part. Aka. my door is open to the outside. Outside has people. I graciously accept his arm and link it in mine and we head out the door. I make sure to lock it behind me cause my parents are gone for yet another romantic weekend. They've found time to do that now that Shelly's out of the house and I'm old enough to drive.

Gross.

"I hope this party's good," I remark.

Kyle grins. "If not, we can just excuse ourselves to go make out."

I know that by 'make out,' he means 'leave the lame ass party but SAY we're doing so to go make out.' I smile at the good idea.

"My parents are gone again," I inform him, winking. Less than a week at being 'boyfriends', and we are already really good at making it believable.

"Then we'll _definitely_ be leaving early," he replies, smiling.

I have to admit, I think I'm actually getting into character pretty well. I guess that's because I'm used to doing this with Kyle around, who always seems incredible comfortable with it. That whole ass-pinching thing was a problem at first, but now here I am holding his arm and letting him know that we can be alone in my house. I think Gay Stan is really getting comfortable being with Gay Kyle.

Once I am sheltered in the car, Kyle releases his hold of me. He shuts my door, like a guy would for his girl (no I am NOT the girl so don't even go there), and he walks over to his side and gets in. He turns the key and revs the engine. I don't know why he does that. He has the world's tiniest car and this is South Park, for Christ's sake. Trying to overcompensate much?

He wiggles his eyebrows at me and smiles before we head out to the party. I have no idea where we're going, but Kyle seems to have a good idea. I watch him as he puts the car into different gears. He does look good tonight.

We arrive in a few minutes and head inside. Kyle goes straight for the snack table, and then tries to find the most comfortable place to hang out at. He's clearly a party master.

"Hey dude," someone says to me. I turn and find out Kenny's here too.

I guess it makes sense. Where there's booze, there's Kenny. Where's there's chicks, there's Kenny. Where there's a party...there's Kenny. Why would he NOT be at this place?

"Hey Ken," I greet with a manly handshake thing. One that we made up long ago and do sometimes just for kicks. "How's the party?" I ask casually, trying desperately to fit in. Truth is, I can't remember the last time I've been to one of these functions.

"Fine," he says. "Just starting really."

"Uh-huh," I answer.

"So listen, you need to get drunk," he informs me casually.

"...What?"

"Just enough to loosen up."

"What's wrong with me now?" I ask, defensively.

Kenny stifles a laugh. "Exactly my point."

I frown and opt to scan the crowd for Kyle instead. In the brief two seconds I was chatting it up Kenny, I lost track of my 'boyfriend.' The whole reason I was invited to this party.

"Looking for Kyle?" Kenny guessed. "Try over in that cheerleader blob."

"Jealous?" I question.

"Nah. Kyle's gonna reject them soon, and then they'll come to me. And I'll have alcohol, which'll make me look even MORE attractive."

I snicker at Kenny's cloudy perception of things. But he does have a point. Sometime, in the very near future, Kyle will reject the lunatic sluts, and he'll come join me again.

"Well good luck with that, man," I tell Kenny, patting him on the back.

"Thanks," he replies, strolling off to some unsuspecting victim. I stand alone, feeling really out of place without Kyle.

"I have to get back to my BOYFRIEND now!" I hear Kyle emphasize. It makes me smile a bit. He pushes his way through the cheerleading mob and is back at my side again in no time, but it felt like forever.

"Hey, dude," I start to say before he grabs my hand and pulls me along to a secluded hallway. It is there that he presses me up against the wall and leans into me.

"God help me, Stan. This isn't working! We've got to do something," he breathes into my left ear. Out of the corner of my eye I can see two girls spying on us, giggling and whispering secrets in each other's ear.

"I think it's working," I say. The girls giggle again in the distance. God knows what they thought I meant by that.

"Not fast enough" Kyle responds.

"Well whaddya want ME to do about it?" I ask him curiously. He pulls his head out from beside mine and looks deeply into my eyes.

"Pretend to kiss me," he says.

"What?!"

"You know, lean in, and cover my face. At this angle, they won't know any different."

"Kyle, dude, I don't know if-"

"Stan, it's been two weeks," he whispers. "This is in character for us. Now c'mon!"

I sigh and lean in. Kyle twists his face so that our noses are touching and I can feel his hot breath on my mouth. I feel a hand shoot up into my hair and massage the back of my head. Suddenly, my body relaxes a bit.

I decide it best to reach my hand around his waist and settle it in his pocket. It is I who is touching HIS ass now. His infamous ass.

"This is really weird, dude," I breathe. He looks at me and we're so close his eyes blur into one.

"Your breath stinks," he informs me. I pull away, embarrassed, even though he is smiling.

"God dammit!" I curse under my apparently bad breath. "I knew I forgot something when I left."

"I've gotta toothbrush if you want it," he offers.

"You carry those around with you?"

He nods. "Never know when you might need it."

"You're such a nerd, Kyle," I smile back and playfully shove him. I see the girls mistaking it for some other kind of affection.

He smiles and rakes a hand through his auburn curls. "Let's get back out there." I nod in agreement.

---

The party goes on as normal. At least -I- think it's normal. I haven't been to one in forever. Uh-oh. Someone just put on music. That means dancing. I either have to gay it up some more and dance with Kyle, or find something to distract us so we don't HAVE to dance. Since I've got bad breath, and Kyle has bad rhythm, I decide to find a distraction.

I scan the room for any kind of activity we could do instead. Pool table, drinking games, darts...DARTS! I'm a WHIZ at darts ever since dad put one in our garage and claimed to be the dart champion of South Park. He'd brag about it and win all kinds of small money from others bragging to be the best. But it was awesome, cause his own SON could beat him.

"Let's go play darts, Kyle," I coax by pushing him towards my hopeful destination.

"Um, okay?" he answers unsurely as I drag him along. Ha. I really AM the man in this fake relationship!

As we near the area, I feel the slightest of tugs on my sleeve. I turn around to face an anxious Kyle. He leans into me. "Stan, I'm not all that good at-"

"Whatever, dude." I smile. "You've got to be better at this than dancing."

"Hey!"

"Just leave it up to me. I'm good." I lean in further. "I'm real good."

All we need to do is find some unsuspecting victims. I know I can kill anybody in here, and Kyle won't really have to do so much as lift a finger. But I also know how competitive he gets. He'll at least act the part of being a badass player.

Done right, we might even be able to hustle a few people. I don't really care about money though. I just don't wanna dance.

We pass by drunken Kenny on the way to claim the board. He's probably good for a game or two.

"Come play darts with us," I say. It's more of a demand than an invitation.

He murmurs something that I can't understand before grabbing some nameless girl's arm and reaching the dart area before I do. I watch him, slightly amused, as he pretends to show her the ropes of darting. As if there is this great and powerful skill. He takes the opportunity to wrap his body around hers and "show" her how to throw a dart. Ha!

"Ready to get creamed, Kenny?" Kyle roars, already assuming his competitive mode.

Kenny's grin widens as the girl stumbles back into his grasp. "You bet."

I allow Kyle to go first for our team. That's the first rule of scamming people. Let them think they can kick your ass. It keeps them playing longer. A long game is what I'll need since that music will be on constantly. Kyle actually does pretty well for himself. He didn't hit a bulls-eye, but he did okay. At least he doesn't look like an obvious plant or something.

"Take THAT, suckers!" he challenges, incorporating a head thrust in there, which is really, in my opinion, quite unnecessary. It's just Kenny and his girl he's trying to fuck. Which he'll probably do, just from the looks of it. Kyle turns to me and raises his hand in the air. I air-slap it and wait for Kenny to make his move. On the dartboard, that is.

He hurls his dart. It totally misses the board. I guess his aim is off from the alcohol. Off in the distance, a cat yelps.

"Ha, they don't stand a chance," Kyle whispers to me. "Show 'em what you've got, Stanny," he says, and slaps my ass as I make my way up to the board. I jump a little in mild surprise, but for the most part, that has become normal.

I do show them what I have. I intentionally miss the bulls-eye, to continue their false hope of winning, but I get it pretty close. "Beginner's luck," the girl figures. Now it's her turn. She does okay for herself too, especially compared to Kenny, but that's not saying much.

The game actually is mildly interesting to me as more time goes on, because the girl, who we've found her name to be Candy, or at least that's what Kenny calls her cause she's sweet...BAD pun Ken...she's actually pretty good. Better than Kyle and Kenny combined.

But still no match for me. And I see that that our little game has started to draw some interest from onlookers in the crowd who are bored with watching the boys hump the backs of the girls on the dance floor. Kyle can't stop grinning cause he's on the winning team.

And I can't stop grinning at how happy he seems. This is turning out to be quite the party.

I take a swig of the beer that Kenny handed to me some time ago. I've only had a few, but really, that's okay. I'm here more for the social aspect, not to get wasted out of my mind and wake up next to some random girl. Plus that would destroy Kyle and I's little made up world we've got going on here.

The alcohol helped cure my bad breath a little. Or at least gave me an excuse for it. I didn't even think that I was being offered a beer when I first sipped it because I was too caught up in the game. But once I had it, it seemed silly to stop. I think Kyle had a few too. Finally, it was time for me to kick this Candy chick's ass and win the game. Then she could go give Kenny a lap dance. A chick named "Candy" is probably trained for that sorta thing.

"Come on, Stan!" I hear Kyle, who is continuously chanting my name in the background. My ass is getting sore from him either slapping or pinching it or doing God-knows-what with it. I can't help but laugh at his aggressive competitive tactics.

I take a deep breath and prepare to sink the dart into it's rightful home. Two seconds later, I wind up for the pitch, a little less dramatically than baseball, and throw the dart.

What a surprise. It lands right there I wished it to. Kyle runs over, practically tacking me. He makes an 'intimidating' threat to Kenny and Candy, who have already disappeared in the shadows somewhere. And that's when he does it.

Amidst all of the after-game glow, Kyle reaches his hand around my back and lightly squeezes my neck. Then he pats my back and pulls me in close, laughing heartily.

I feel a chill, unlike anything I've ever felt in my life, begin right at the point of contact and permeate throughout my entire body, right down to my toes.

Now I know. I hate to say it hit me like a ton of bricks because that's cliche, but it's true! It all made sense now. The way he was holding me, the way it felt so natural. It only lasted for a second, and God knows he's spent the last two weeks touching me in other places, but NOW it's all clear. This might be a game to him, but it's not to me. Not anymore. This feels so right, and it feels so right because...

...Because I like Kyle.

Like, like him. As MORE than a friend. As more than a "pretend" boyfriend. I LIKE him touching me like this. I LIKE going to places together. The ass smacking still hurts, but I don't even mind it anymore! Earlier I was even touching HIS ass and didn't care! All the nervousness, the awkwardness, the agreeing so easily to act VERY gay in public settings which has lots of negative consequences...It all makes sense.

Being with Kyle makes sense.

Fuck.

Kyle's POV

I hate children. My stupid brother is making noise downstairs, and it's pissing me off. I'd go yell at him to shut up, but that would require getting out of bed. Of course, I'm not doing anything IN bed--I can't sleep thanks to all the noise! It's Saturday, and I should be allowed to sleep in, but that little brat won't let me.

Fuck, I'm tired. Last night was pretty awesome. I think Stan and I really made some headway with this whole gay thing. We even tried a pretend kiss, freaking the girls out entirely. Awesome.

I think it freaked him out a little too, though. Homophobe.

Okay, that's it. I'm kicking Ike's ass. It is morning. A time for sleep.

I pull myself out of bed and run my fingers through my red hair. I stomp downstairs to find him. My guess is he's in front of the TV watching Saturday morning cartoons.

"SOME of us are trying to sleep!" I announce to him before I've even entered the room.

"Ugh," I hear another voice moan. As I make my way from behind the couch to the center of the room, I spy Stan rolling over on the couch, looking barely awake and very sick. Shit, I forgot I had to take him back here cause he was too shitfaced to even walk. Of course that meant I dumped him here instead of walking him up to my room. 

Ike glares at me like it's my fault that there's a hungover blob on the couch.

Which it is, I guess, since I invited him in. But that kid is still annoying!

"Ike, keep it down. Me and Stan need sleep."

"He's gonna hurl," Ike tells me. I eye my brother angrily right before I see Stan out of the corner of my eye. His eyes go wide and his body wretches.

He's out of the room in a mad dash before I even have a chance to rebuttle. Poor Stan. He got way too trashed last night. Wonder why, he seemed fine for a while.

"Take him upstairs," Ike practically demands of me. "I can't hear the TV over his hangover noises."

"Shut up, Ike," I say. Instead I make my way to the bathroom to check on my friend.

It's not like Stan to overdo it like that. He's usually too concerned about looking cool and too preoccupied with acting that way that he lets loose. Maybe he's letting go of that...

"BLEEEEH!"

Or, maybe he's just letting go of other things.

"You okay, dude?" I call from behind the closed door. This is such a normal sound coming from Stan I do'nt worry too much.

"Fine," he voices hoarsely in between gags.

I feel kind of bad. I made him go to that party. Then again, he was happy to go. Besides, I can't control how much he drinks, which usually isn't this much anyway. Still, he's in there being sick. It's not very cool of me to just blame him. Now I'm worrying about it, and I need to stop that. I'll just tell him to chill out next time or something. I don't want Stan to end up like Kenny.

Ugh, Kenny. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was getting off to the idea of Stan and I together. Kenny's no homo, but sometimes I think he's horny with anything that moves.

"BLEEEH!"

It sounded like Stan was going to be in there a while. I know! I should run out and get him some stuff. A toothbrush, obviously. Maybe a bucket and some food. It's what a good friend, or a good fake boyfriend, would do.

"BLEEEH!"

"Ike," I call out again to the tween. "I'm gonna go get Stan some stuff, I"ll be back soon. Make sure he doesn't die."

"Kay," is his simple response. Ha, yeah he didn't listen to what I just said. We're both awesome at pretending we're listening to mom when she's telling us stuff, we've just adopted that to any time we don't want to listen.

I hop in my car and head for the store. Since Ike doesn't give a crap if Stan lives or dies, I'd better hurry back. The toothbrush should be easy to find. The bucket I can probably grab from any hardware store. I'll get the food last. Hm. They say pizza and burgers are good "drunk" foods, but I dunno what good hangover foods are. Stan might not even wanna eat right now, but at some point he'll need to refill his stomach.

Another theory I heard was making eggs. I can't eat eggs, they make me sick, but Stan surely should try. I'll make some of those. I grab the eggs and some OJ and decide it's best if I just make him a breakfast. Like the sweet and caring boyfriend I am.

In fact, since I'm officially up for the day, I can let Stan use my bed. I'll make him breakfast in bed. Ha. That'll be cool.

That party was pretty fun. I think it was better because Stan was there though. In fact, a lot of things have been better lately thanks to Stan being around. I mean, we've always had fun together, but lately...I don't know. I'm really getting a kick out of this whole boyfriend thing. It's way more fun than I should be having, I think. I guess I'm just that comfortable in my manhood. And really, how could I not be with girls hanging around me all the time? Still, it's weird I guess.

I don't WANT those girls hanging all over me though. I'd rather just have a good time with my buddy.

How many eggs should I buy? How many eggs would a possibly still-drunk person eat? One that has a sensitive stomach already. Shit, mom probably has eggs in the fridge anyway. I didn't even bother to look, I just want Stan to feel better.

I pay for my purchases and get out of the store as fast as I came in. In a few more minutes, I head into the bathroom to tell Stan the plan.

"I'm not hungry," he weakly replies.

"But you will be," I argue. "Whatever. Just brush your teeth and go to bed."

"Kyle, I can't move," he moans. Hesitantly, I pry open the door, scooting him out of the way, and sit on the side of the tub.

"You can't stay in the bathroom forever, dude." I look down at him sympathetically. His hair is matted to his forehead and his cheeks have paled to the color of MY skin. He doesn't look so hot.

"I'm so stupid," he scolds himself.

"It's not your fault dude. You just overdid it a little. That's all. It happens to all of us."

"Not to you," he mutters without looking me in the eye. Come to think of it, he HASN'T looked me in the eye at all today. And not much last night after we kicked ass in our dart game.

Or should I say Stan kicked ass in. I barely knew how to throw the damn thing into the board. It was all him. My boyfriend.

...Hm. I'm even calling him that in my head now. I REALLY like this boyfriend thing. It must be fun to say or something.

"Well yeah," I answer him. "but that's because I don't really drink. Trust me dude, you're gonna be fine."

"Sure," he snorts. Still not looking at me.

"Stan?" I ask curiously, hoping it would cause him to look up brightly like he usually does.

"What," he mumbles into the toilet bowl.

"..."

He sighs. I sigh too.

"Let's get you out of here."

I move over and slowly help him up. He sure is being short with me today. I'd be pissed off too if I were in his condition. He whines a little. He doesn't seem to want my help, or my hands to help hold him up.

"Dude, stop struggling," I insist. "I'm trying to help you here."

"No, Kyle," he pleads, but I turn him down. If he's going to struggle, I'm just going to have to pick him up.

Which is exactly what I do.

He finally stops fighting back, probably due to the shock of me going so far as to actually lift him off the ground. He still tries desperately to not make eye contact though. I'm surprised I can notice something like that, considering I'm carrying around another human being and all my thoughts should be on setting him down as soon as possible in a soft place.

Thankfully, we make it to my room.

I bust open the door and waddle to my bed, throwing him down with a soft THUD. He kind of kicks and throws a mini-tantrum, which I think is only going to make him sicker.

"Calm down, dude!" I cry out, forcing a blanket over him. "Just get some more sleep, I'll be here when you wake up."

He frowns, and I swear almost looks on the verge tears, but says nothing. Jeez, what the fuck is his problem?

Despite his protests, he passes out a few minutes later. Something is definitely going on here. At least I think so, and I know Stan pretty well, so I'm probably right. It's one thing to be a sad drunk, or an angry drunk, but Stan seems to be...both right now. Add in the fact that he usually doesn't get this bad to begin with, and it's logical to assume that something is on his mind making him act this way.

My brain starts going into overdrive, conjuring up possibilities for Stan's weird behavior. Maybe he digs a girl who was at the party, and our little "relationship" will keep him from ever getting a fair chance with her.

His birthday is coming up. Maybe that has him upset for some reason? Or maybe-

"Kyle, you have a visitor!" I hear my mom call from downstairs.

Fuck. I don't need a visitor right now. I just wanna sit here, watch Stan sleep, and figure out what's going on.

"KYLE!" Ike screams loudly, knocking me out of my thought process.

I growl and decide it best to let Stan sleep peacefully. Maybe its the sleep deprivation that makes him ultra bitchy. I quietly latch the door closed and make my way down the stairs to see who's here so early in the...afternoon.

"Helloooo Kaaahl!"

Oh. God. NO!

"What do YOU want," I demand, glaring daggers at the overly-smiley fat face in front of me.

"How was your night last niiight?"

"Fine" I respond, not nearly as cheerfully. "What do you want?" I ask again.

"Kyle, let's talk shall we?"

"How about we don't?"

Cartman frowns, making his chins double. "Kahl, didn't we say we were going to put the past behind us? I have something very important to say to my friend, and you are not responding properly like a gentleman."

"Look, Eric, I really don't have time for this right now okay? Just say whatever you have to say and then leave me alone."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. You see, I was just wondering why you're being so...Well..."

He takes a moment to look around, making sure no one will overhear our conversation. He leans in toward my ear and whispers to me.

"Why the hell are you being so gay lately?"

My eyes go wide, and then they narrow into little slivers. Normally, I'd be pissed as hell for him saying something like that, but truth is, I have been. Obviously. Still, it's none of his goddamn business.

Should I tell HIM the truth? He says he's my friend. Would he be able to keep a secret? Or should I lie and tell him the "truth" about Stan and I?

"Why do you think?" I respond with sarcasm, which also slickly avoids the answer to his question. "How is someone SUPPOSED to act in that...situation?"

"Yes but, it seems so strange," he explains politely. "I mean, it's so sudden. As your friend, I think I deserve to be filled in on this Kahl."

"Look, just make your little joke and leave. I don't have time to-"

"This isn't a joke dude. I JUST wanna know what's going on."

I grit my teeth. He IS being nice to me. He has been nice to me. Maybe a leopard CAN change its spots.

"Um...Eric," I say, making sure I say his first name. "Stan and I, well, we've decided to come out to the world."

I don't trust leopards worth a damn.

"...I see," he responds with a blink of his eyes,still being rather...cool about this.

I nod and continue. "And that's really all there is to tell. So now if you'll excuse me-"

"Do your parents know yet?"

"No," I say impatiently. He can tell, cause he spies my tapping foot.

"Kyle, why would you feel like you had to hide something as treasured as your feelings from me? We have made ammends," he tells me, chosing his words deliberatly and carefully. I can just tell. I'm just counting the seconds down until he'll pounce...

"We haven't been "friends" that long Cartman."

"ERIC," he corrects.

"Eric" I say with a roll of my eyes. "And I wasn't just hiding it from YOU. I was hiding it from everybody."

"Well, I guess you've decided to finally stop doing that then."

"Yeah, we have."

I'm waiting for it. Something like "about time" or "I always knew you were fags," but it never comes.

"I bet getting that off your chest is a big relief, huh Kahl?" He is still standing in my doorway with my front door wide open. Does he see that I'm not inviting him in for a chat?

"Um, yeah sure," I say. "Are we done now?"

He takes a moment to sniff the air. "What is that?"

"It's our breakfast. Meaning the breakfast for my FAMILY, of which you can have none."

"Is Stan here?" he prodded more, looking around the room. How does he do that?

"Yes," I mumble.

"Hm. Heard that he got a bit too intoxicated after I left from the party," he continues cheerily. "I trust you helped him out."

"Cartman what the fuck is your problem!" I unexpectedly burst out.

He raises a confused eyebrow at me. "Whatever do you mean Kahl?"

"THAT! That's what I mean! Just stop it, okay? Stop being nice to me! I know it's all a trick! I know you're planning something, and I KNOW you're just doing this to get under my skin even more! Well it's NOT working you son of a bitch!"

He closes his eyes and breathes in. After holding it for a few seconds, he breathes out. This is an anger managment technique, I'm sure of it.

"I'm just trying to a caring friend, asking about your life, Kahl. If you can't handle it, then maybe it is you who needs to work on being a good friend."

I growl. "I don't have time for this! Goodbye, ERIC!"

I close the door in his face and turn to head back for the stairs. Through the door as I walk away, I can still hear his fat mouth yapping faintly.

"You really need to learn to trust your friends more. Someday you'll have to let me in."

I laugh angrily until his voice fades out.

"Let me in, Kahl. Why won't you just let me in?..."

"Fucker," I mutter as I slam the bedroom door shut. SHIT, totally forgot what I was doing and who was in here.

"What what what!" Stan cried out alarmed as he sprung up into a stick-straight sitting postion. His eyes were closed, but his voice was panicky.

"Sorry" I say quickly. "It's nothing. Go back to sleep."

"Kyle?" he asks curiously. And for a second, I'm not sure if he's awake or not. His eyes are closed and he sets himself back into a comfortable position.

"Yeah, dude, I'm here."

He smiles before rolling over once again.

He's smiling, which means he must be feeling a little better. That makes -me- smile. I was here for him. Just like I said I'd be. Just like I'd always be.


	5. Chapter 5

We felt giving. This is a chapter that is going to make you all tear your hair out at obviousness but just have to wait for the obviousness to be realized. If that makes sense. It's also our longest chapter to date AND it switches POV's THREE times. I don't think it's too confusing though. Thanks for all the reviews! We're blown away that it could get so much interest!

Let us make you a deal. You read this chapter, and _then_ check out our other fic that I just updated. Cause it needs lovin' like Stan and Kyle do. Deal?

Enjoy :)

**Chapter 5**

Kyle's POV

Monday morning. Everything they say about it is true. Look, I may be the top of our class and ready for college and all that shit but that does NOT mean I'm looking forward to Monday mornings.

The only thing that gets me by is knowing that Stan will have some way to cheer me up after my long hours in the chem lab and crazy homework from advanced trig.

He always knows how to make me laugh. He's awesome like that. I'm glad I picked him to be my boyfriend, which is still totally working.

And that time has come again. Mr. Lewis is beaming at me for my last take on Shakespeare's sonnet number whatever the fuck I don't remember. Fuck if I know half the stuff I say in class. Stan is grinning like a maniac. And so is Cartman, which is disturbing.

I think I've got Lewis right where I want him. After class I'll ask him to switch my seat again.

It's funny. I sit next to Stan in our other class, but I'm not satisfied with that. I wanna sit next to him in each class we have together. I can't even argue that it's because Cartman is giving me crap in my current seat. He's not. Which is still disturbing. I just...really wanna be with Stan.

I opted for the Cartman technique of sucking up sickenly sweet to get what I want. And so far, it seems to be working. Nothing much has happened, but I can see the admiration in Mr. Lewis's eyes every passing day. And it's not just because I wanna sit with Stan...I just can't...stand...to have Cartman have his way.

I know he's trying to be nice, but wouldn't you be worried?

I go over to my fat teacher when the bell rings. "Mr. Lewis, I was wondering if I could speak to you in private."

"Certainly mister Broflovski. What about?"

I wait for everyone to leave the room. Stan and Cartman are dragging their feet. I'm sure they're wondering what's up. Well too bad. I remain silent until they're out of the room.

"I was curious about my placement in the classroom," I continue after I nod for Stan to exit without me. He's so dependent upon me.

Although lately, I have to admit, he's been acting a bit aloof. I'll call him out on it later.

Mr. Lewis looks at me strangely. "Yes?"

"Well, I was just wondering if maybe I could switch back to my original seat."

"Hmm...I don't know. If I did that, I might be accused of something from another student."

As well he should be. It's favoritism. But I'm his favorite, so logically if anyone deserves favoritism it's me.

"It's not that big a deal."

"I can't have students all switching seats. It'd be chaos."

"Mr. Lewis, I was originally placed there," I point out. Half true, I CHOSE to sit there first.

He eyes me and sees my genuine interest in sitting with Stan, causing him to ask this question: "what is your obvious interest in your old seat?"

I smile. "Stan."

He blinks. "Hmm...As I recall you acted up while in that seat. Your performance has improved greatly in the new seat. I'd hate to see that degenerate."

"It won't, sir. I didn't even get a chance to turn a paper in when I was in that seat. My performance is gonna be the same."

"If your performance is the same wherever you sit, why does it matter where you are?"

"I'd just feel more comfortable in that seat. Please?"

He frowns. "I have been hearing some disturbing rumors about you and Mr. Marsh throughout the school."

What?

"Now, I am not one to listen to town gossip, but if what I hear is truthfully taking place, I'd think twice about your actions, Mr. Broflovski."

Is this guy for real? Is he telling me who I can be friends with??

I blink. "Mister Lewis, I just wanna go from one seat to another. No one's gonna care."

He's not responding right away. That means he's considering it. I can see it in his eyes. I just need one more thing to put me over the top.

"And if they do, you're the teacher. You can tell them to sit down and do their work like good little boys and girls should. They should...respect your authoritah..."

"Yes, and you should too, Mr. Broflovski. Take my advice. Mr. Marsh and the like are some boys you should stay away from." He puts his arm around me and starts walking to the door. "I see potential in you, Kyle. You're not like the others. Don't let boys like him affect your studies. It may just be a silly crush."

I blink twice.

"High school relationships often don't last. It's a sad but true reality. You might think this Stan fellow is wonderful now, but sitting next to him effects your performance from what I've seen. As a teacher, I can't in good conscience allow you to be brought down for the sake of this...relationship. One that might not even work out. You're trying to risk your education for something that probably won't be there for you later on. Relationships come and go, but your mind is forever. Don't lose both."

"Mr. Lewis!" I yell, apalled. How DARE he invade my personal life? Especially one so...so...fake!

He continues with his hand on my shoulder and squeezes my neck muscles. "I'll tell you what, Kyle. I"ll think about it. If you promise to think about what I said." He looks at me like the douche bag he is, expecting me to hug him and thank him for all his awesome knowledge.

What a fucking asshole.

"Yeah, I will," I say. I don't know how convincing I was. I don't care anymore. I sure as hell don't wanna hug him or anything gay like that. My need to kiss his ass is basically over now. Thank God.

I leave hastily in search for my best friend, who just happens to be speeding off to his next class. I stop him with my hand, and he whirls around to see me.

"What was that all about?" he asks.

Ah, the things I do for Stan. "Nothing. You doing anything after school today?"

"Nope" he says, although he doesn't really have much time to talk. He very well might have something going on but no time to remember it. Even then, I'm sure he'll cancel it for me.

I slide into boyfriend mode and grin. "I was thinking we could go on a date."

His eyebrows raise, naturally. Again, he starts avoiding my eyes. "Oh?" Ha, I swear his voice just cracked.

"Yeah. You wanna go see a movie?" I look around and see the whole school pause to hear his reaction.

"...I...I don't think there's anything good out."

I shrug. "We could rent something."

"Kyle," he says, twitching. "I've got work to do. Let's make it some other night."

What?

"What dude?" I ask, slightly irritated.

"I just...I just remembered. I've got some homework. Sorry."

I frown. "Stan, what's going on?"

"Nothing" he says quickly. "Dude I gotta go."

"Stan! You NEVER do homework!" I call out. To open air. Cause he's already out of my sight.

What just happened?

"Something wrong?" I hear a voice ask from behind me.

"Cartman, not now."

"You can talk to -me-. I'm totally here for you Kahl."

I turn around, spinning on my heels. Slowly, I growl. "You can't help me,"

Cartman huffs. "Kahl, everyone can use a helping hand once in a while."

"I don't need your help."

"But you need -someone's- help, right?"

I glare. "There's only one person I trust to help me, and it sure as hell isn't you."

It was Stan, naturally. But I guess he can't help me right now either. It's kinda depressing.

I walk away before Cartman, oh, excuse me. ERIC, can open his fatass mouth even more. I'm not interested in anything he has to say. I just stuck out my sucking up neck for Stan so I could sit next to him and he...blew me off!

He BLEW ME OFF. As a "boyfriend" I should be furious.

As a friend...why am I so pissed? Maybe he really DOES have homework...

Kenny's POV

Where the hell am I? I know I went to school today, but I was going through the motions all day. I really shouldn't get drunk on a school night. I think I'm at home, but it looks like Stan is coming into my room. Maybe I'm at his house after school? I don't know. Oh well. Looks like he's gonna talk to me. I'd better try to listen.

"What's up, dude," I casually say as casually as possible. I want to sound casual. I didn't spend my last few hours fantasizing about him and Kyle or anything.

I didn't!

He looks at me weird and walks closer to me.

I grin. It has to be about sex. Oh please tell me it is about sex.

Or drinking. Cuz then I could get him drunk. AND have an excuse to get drunk myself. Again! Sweet!

"What about?"

"About...um..." He is reddening, and I've never seen him rub the back of his neck like this. He's biting his lip.

Oh my god. He's fallen for Kyle. I know it. I KNOW IT. I can just tell these things.

"About?" I coax. Watch, I'm right.

"It's um...It's about Kyle, I guess."

HA! I told you! You didn't believe me did you? ...Wait, who am I talking to? Fuck. I gotta stop drinking. Seriously.

"It's just...It's getting weird again."

"Why's that?" I ask, trying my best to contain my victory. Victory over being right.

He rubs his neck again and looks at the floor. "He's...he's acting really gay, Ken. Too well."

"Again?" I roll my eyes. "So tell him to knock it off. I think the school gets the point by now."

Stan blinks. "Well, no. I mean, I don't want him to just STOP exactly..."

"Christ Stan. Don't tell me you're falling for it."

His face goes white. I've let the cat out of the bag. Haha.

"Well...I might...of...uh..." He sits down nervously. "Ken, I need your help."

Hm. He needs my help, huh? I can help him by showing him he really likes gay sex...

...Nah. Can't do that to him and Kyle.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask.

"I just want..." He closes his eyes and sighs. "You told Kyle to act gay to get away from the girls." He opens his eyes and looks directly at me with pleading baby blues. "Did you tell him to get a boyfriend?"

I blink. Did I? No. I don't think I did. I know I didn't tell him to get with Stan.

"No" I respond honestly. "He picked you all on his own."

"What does that mean?" he asks to himself more than me. He's searching my room for answers.

I look up at him. "Dude, you really like Kyle now don't you."

He sighs. "Yes."

"So him being your 'fake' boyfriend is kinda fucked up for ya?"

"...Well, yeah..."

"So you want me to help you get over him?"

He just stands there.

"Or you want me to help me get him to like you back..." I venture. Three guesses that's the right answer.

He sighs. "A few weeks ago I was happy being who I was and not having a fucking clue what I felt...Ken...I need help..." he repeats.

I finally sit up in bed. "Yeah, it can be tough discovering that kinda thing. Tell you this though: No way can Kyle get pissed at you for feeling it or anything. He's being your 'fake' boyfriend for fuck's sake. How upset can he get that you actually like it?"

"He's doing it to get away from the girls," Stan reasons.

I shake my head. "Yeah. Exactly my point. And WHY should a bunch of hot girls following him bother him?"

Stan raises a 'brow. "You really think he likes it too?"

"Stan, if you like acting gay, you're fucking gay dude."

He pauses to think about this. It really looks like its hurting him to do that.

"I think he just really gets into whatever it is he's doing at the time, Ken. I don't seriously think Kyle wants a...boyfriend..." His voice drops several decibels with that last word.

I frown. It's kinda sad to hear him so disappointed.

"Well, you need to tell him that," I advise. "He's your friend if nothing else, and this is gonna be torture for you if it keeps happening and he's not seriously into it. Besides being all emotional and heartbreaking for you, it's the ultimate cock tease. No guy wants to do that to his friend."

"Kenny, I just realized last Saturday. I doubt he'd want me to bring it to him this soon in the game. I've gotta be a good boyfriend. Gotta make him happy, you know?"

His reasoning makes me want to scream. He fucking loved him before, he just didn't realize it. He said so himself.

"Well when exactly is this 'game' gonna be over?" I ask. "I mean, the girls get it. When's it gonna stop? And how? Just let it flow, dude. What is supposed to happen will happen. Just gotta let it flow," I say, soothingly. Something tells me with the amount of enjoyment that Kyle has with this whole thing...he's just not acting.

It's only a matter of time before he realizes it.

"But...But it's killing me already dude! I can't just sit back and 'pretend' to like him while I know he's just pretending. That sucks."

I try a different method. "How did you know?"

He blinks, completely taken aback. "What?"

"How did YOU know that you liked Kyle?"

He blinks again. "It...just kinda happened."

I nod. "Exactly. Like I said, if you like acting gay, you're fucking gay. And Kyle was always WAY more into this stuff than you were. You don't get THAT into character for Christ's sake."

He finally cracks a smile. I think I just gave him some newfound hope. Cool.

---

Stan leaves, so I decide to lay back down. I pass out again, naturally. I wake up again later to find Katie in my room. She'd better not ask for my razor again. What the fuck is up with all these people barging into my room anyway? What if I slept naked?

Hm, not a bad idea.

"Kenny what was that boy stealer doing in your room!" she demands to know as I open my mouth to yawn, even though nothing ever comes out. It's a force of habit now.

"Fuck off Katie," I mutter and roll over onto my side.

"I don't get it," she continues whining. "What does he have that I don't have?!"

"A penis. Goodnight Katie."

"They'd better not come over here acting all GAY with each other! Blech!"

I huff and turn angrily to my sister. "What's up YOUR ass? Just because you can't have--and didn't stand a chance with--Kyle, you're going to bash him and his boyfriend? Grow up."

She sneers but says nothing in return. Stupid immature brat.

I don't believe you!" she says finally. This is starting to annoy me. Can't she see I'm hung over?

"He breaks your sister's heart and you take HIS side?!" she continues.

"He didn't break your heart, technically. He had no interest in you to begin with. You'll find a guy for yourself. Just...not a gay older one."

"But I want KYLE!" she screams in true Veruca Salt fashion. You know from that movie with that fucked up candy maker guy and the orange midgets? Mom made us watch that one time when trying to give us a "family fun night".

"And last week you wanted to fuck some guy in the eighth grade. You'll get over this too."

"But-"

"Now if you don't get out of my room I'm going to duck tape you to a chair and pluck every single hair out of that head of yours."

"...The hell would you do -that- for?" she asks after a pause. I think a threat involving ripping hair threw her off. Good! I actually don't know why I chose that for my threat. I'm just fucking hung over and want some sleep.

"Just go or you'll find out," I repeat.

She blinks and backs up a bit. "Fine. And I did NOT wanna fuck that eighth grader! I just thought he looked hot!"

"You could want to have his baby for all I care, just GET OUT OF MY FUCKING ROOM!"

"SOMEBODY has PMS today," she snorted, leaving me in peace.

She always has to have the last word. Whatever, like I said, I don't care. She's gone. I get to sleep now. It doesn't matter if its only 8pm.

I wake up again. The phone is ringing. It's 8:05 now. Son of a bitch! I answer, annoyed already.

"Hello!"

"Kenny, what the hell did you do?!"

I blink. "What do you mean Cartman?"

"Was it YOUR idea to gayify Kahl? Cause I know the little Jew-bag doesn't have enough guts to tell the world he's got a boner for his best friend. What the FUCK did you do KENNY," Cartman huffs into the phone. I can tell he's seething with anger and it surprises me a little.

I thought he was making nice with Kyle.

"Um...Well, it's how they feel. I just kinda helped them see it, I guess."

"Why do you have to stick your nose where it doesn't belong?! God dammit Kenny, Kyle was just fine living in denial and dating lots of hot girls! You ruined everything!"

"...Did HE tell you this, or-"

"I warn you Kenny. Don't cross me. You're screwing up everything, so just back off man!"

I shake my head, but he can't see that. "I KNEW it. I KNEW you couldn't make nice with Kyle. Something had to be up. What's up this time, fatass? Whats the plan for this one? I must admit, you've actually got Kyle pretty fooled. He actually THINKS you want to be his friend."

"And he will continue to THINK that, won't he Kenny. Cause if you tell him any differently I'll personally see to it that every girl in school goes on to believe that you have the AIDS. Knowing how much you sleep around, that one won't even be hard to fabricate."

"Whatever dude," I say back. "Can I go to sleep now?"

"I'm seriously Kenny. Do -not- screw this up any more than you already have!"

I hear the phone slam in my ear, and I'm left sitting there, blinking more than normal, and wondering what the fuck just happened. Whatever Cartman is up to, guess I better just sit back and watch the show.

And what a show this will be. Cause once Kyle realizes his own feelings for his bff like his bff realized for him, we're gonna see some fireworks.

Stan's POV

I sigh as I squeeze myself into a tight mesh tee shirt. I don't mind that part of the outfit so much as I mind the leather pants. I leave the bathroom, hoping to God that Kyle has finished changing back in his room. I still haven't told him how I feel.

I sure as hell won't be telling him tonight either. He finally got me to agree to go out. But why the hell did I agree to go to a gay club with him? It's gonna be noisy and crowded with bad techno music. Fuck.

Who knew we even HAD a gay club in South Park? I, for one, didn't even know there was a "downtown" area where clubs could be.

Kyle did his research though. After school he came up to me, putting his arm around my shoulder (he just HAD to do that again) and pressed a printed flyer into my stomach.

"You, me, tonight," he told me as I looked down at it. He had found the single worst place I could go right now when I'm pretending to be gay and actually found out that I like my pretending to be gay best friend.

A club where I get to act completely...and totally...gay.

I knock on the door. "Come in" he says. I go inside, curious to see what outfit he's selected for himself tonight. I don't know WHERE he got these things. Frankly, I don't wanna know. Kenny's right: Kyle's WAY too into this stuff. I guess that's a good thing, but I still don't know for sure and I'm afraid to ask.

Oh, god dammit! He looks good!!

He looks REAL good. He's wearing a black collared button-up shirt with cutoff sleeves and some jeans that I didn't think could fit anyone...but they look damn good on him. Oh fuck, I look ridiculous. I look like the fairy queen of queertown and Kyle looks...hot.

He lets out a snicker as I stand in front of him, nervously glancing him up and down.

"Please tell me you didn't already have those pants in your closet, Stan."

I glare at him. "Shut up, asshole." He KNOWS he's the one that picked them out. Why did he have to make mine so…gay?

He smiles. His teeth are really white. He's gonna have guys all over him at that place.

"You ready?" he asks.

"I guess so," I say. "Do we have to pay cover?"

"I'll get it dude," Kyle assures me. "I invited you." He pauses. "Actually, I told you we're going, so I'm s'pposed to pay I think."

I look at him with unease. "Kyle, when you said 'date', I didn't actually think you meant-"

"Well I was thinking a movie would be too low profile anyway. By coming here, anybody and everybody who sees us will know who we really are," Kyle says overconfidently.

Who we really are. Funny he should say that...

We get to the club a little later. Ugh. I hear the bad techno music as soon as we walk in. Based on the name, it looks like Big Gay Al is the owner. I don't see him around anywhere though. Probably busy.

Kyle drags my very gay-looking ass out on the dance floor. We start to dance, but it's really weird. I can't put my finger on why. Well, besides the obvious. I'm a nervous wreck and I'm dancing with the guy I'm secretly crushing on! I'm glad the club's got all these lasers going. It makes it hard to see me blushing.

"What're you doing?" he asks loudly over the thumping beat.

"Dancing!" I say.

"Dude, you're not supposed to lead!"

"I'm not? Why not?"

"I'm the guy here! I lead! I asked YOU out tonight, remember?"

I blink. My embarrassment fades as I debate his bullshit.

"That's bullcrap, dude!" I say. "I'm a man too. I should lead! It's bad enough you made me wear this thing!"

At this statement, he grins. "But you look so cute in it." He runs his hands up and down my bicep as I stare back at him blankly.

Either he's telling me this because he really believes it. Which, in that case, I should be happy and not give a shit who is or isn't leading...it's dancing to techno, for Christ sake. OR...he's telling me this to get his way, which pisses me off very much and makes me want to sit down and pretend I'm not even here.

Since I don't know which, I just keep dancing with him. I even let him lead. Next time I'll ask HIM out and be the guy. I'LL lead and make him wear the faggy outfits...That is, if I have the guts to even ask him out on a PRETEND date. I sigh again.

Oh my god! What's he doing now? He's...He's GRINDING on me! God dammit Kyle! My blush is coming back. He still can't see it. Least I hope not.

Oh, but I bet he can feel IT. I groan as he presses against me even harder. I swear to god if he comments on this I'm going to die. But I can just pass it off as friction. These damn pants don't let me breathe. Yeah, that's it.

He takes this opportunity to look directly into my eyes, and I take this opportunity to look everywhere BUT his eyes. I can't let him know how I feel.

I take a look around the dance floor. I bet there isn't a single straight boy in this club who's pretending to be gay. I bet we're the only ones. I bet we're the only ones on the face of this earth. Which is saying something. What if Kenny is right? What if Kyle isn't pretending?

...Then again, if Kyle's not pretending, how come he isn't..."into it" like I am? I know the state I'm in right now, and Kyle probably knows too. He doesn't feel the same way though. Literally. Least I don't think so. The only way to know for sure is to grind back on him, which would DEFINITELY let him know how Stan Junior is feeling right now. No way I wanna open myself up to that kinda humiliation.

"Dude, you okay with this?" Kyle asks suddenly, taking me off guard. He loosens up on me a little and continues to look in my eyes.

And I still do my best to avoid his. I lightly nod.

"You can't even look at me!" he screams in my direction, due to the loud volume of the monotonous music.

"Sorry" I say. "It's just...the lights and stuff. You know?"

He frowns. I know, because I'm looking at his mouth instead of his eyes. It helps me hear him better.

"I'm sorry Stan."

I blink. "Sorry? For what?"

"I shouldn't have dragged you here without asking first. The glowing stuff's probably driving you crazy."

That's not what's driving me crazy.

He sighs. "Do you want to go home?"

Yes. "No, let's just...get something to drink or something." I figure if I get some drinks in me, I"ll loosen up and can go back to "acting".

Kyle nods. "Good idea." The song was over anyway. We make our way through the crowd to the bar area. Thank God for these fake ID's. I don't know what I what to drink, but I know I want it to be alcoholic.

Kyle isn't ordering for me. Does that mean he's stopped "being the guy"? I guess it's good he's letting me pick some stuff. It means he's backing off.

Do I WANT him to back off? I do right?

"Haven't seen you two around here before," the bartender speaks up, talking mainly to Kyle. His eyes travel down and then up my pretend boyfriend's body. Much like every other guy I've noticed. Just like I suspected. Kyle's idea to become gay is only going to bring more of a crowd into his already crowded fanbase.

"We just heard about the place," Kyle says. "What's good here?"

"Just bring us something flavored," he says to the bartender. The guy leaves. Flavored drinks huh? Yeah, that's pretty gay.

"Too bad I'm here," I say to Kyle half-jokingly and...I guess half-jealous too. "Maybe you would've got a free drink."

Kyle frowns, his shoulders noticeably dropping down. In one swift move, he scoots closer to me and casually drapes his arm over my shoulders. Again. Seems this is his favorite thing to do now.

"You look good tonight, Stan," he tells me.

I look up at him. "Some look better than others." And of course, by some, I mean him.

"Hey bartender!" Kyle screams suddenly. "My boyfriend wants something different. Bring him whatever he wants."

I smile. I didn't think I'd be able to do that tonight. It completely slipped my mind that he'd just ordered for us both again. Now he's taking it back. So, I guess he's backing off and being respectful of me, but at the SAME time, he's not stopping being the guy.

I kinda like this.

"Gimme the darkest thing you have," I say. Fruity girl drink my ass.

"God, the nerve of some people," Kyle whispers to me. Why he's whispering when it's still too loud to hear I don't know.

"You're sitting RIGHT HERE and that asshole makes a move on me. What a dick!"

"It's not surprising, dude. Look at you," I say, and almost immediately regret it. My eyes go wide and I swallow loudly. Not loud enough for him to hear.

Kyle smiles warmly. "Thanks man. But hey, I'm here with you tonight. So fuck 'em all, this is about us."

Dammit! Why does he have to be so cool?! It pisses me off and makes me feel good at the same time! He's ignoring all these guys checking him out either because he's perfectly happy pretending with me-which is pretty fucked up when you think about it-or because he actually likes me-which is even more amazing considering he could still have anyone he wants from either sex.

And I can't even tell him how I feel.

That drink can't come fast enough.

"That'll be $9," the bartender grumbles as he slams the drinks on the bar in front of us.

Kyle's eyes bug out of his skull. "$9??! Jesus Christ!"

I smile inwardly as he mutters something about "looks get you nowhere" and he pushes a ten and two dollars the bartender's way. "Have a good night," he tells him, and he looks at me for the next move.

I decide it best to find somewhere to sit.

There are two rows of places to sit. I pick the first one for us. Looks like I'M getting to be the guy now. Heh, cool. Most people go to clubs to dance, so we have our pick of the stools. None of them are comfortable, which makes sense. They don't want people sitting around. The stool is especially uncomfortable when you're in leather pants though.

"Hey Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

"...Well, don't feel bad for bringing me here. I'm having fun."

"Yeah? Good," he replies, and flashes yet another killer smile. God DAMN why does he do that? Doesn't he know that over half the guys in here are secretly wishing he was with them? And that by smiling like that its giving me a lot of enemies?

"What made you decide to come here, of all places?" I ask instead.

He sips his drink. "Well, I just figured it was time we got a little more serious about this."

"...Wh...What do you mean?" I nervously ask. I sip my drink. I down a lot more booze than he just did.

"I mean that this whole boyfriend thing has been working really well. I figured it was time we, ya know, did a little more with it. Went on the town. Tried it more...publicly. Outside of school."

"Oh yeah?" I squeak, pounding back more than half my drink. It's good stuff.

"Plus, like I said before, its high profile. If you want someone to notice you've taken a liking to Italian food, would you just start fixing Italian food at your house? Or would you go out to the most famous restaurant and order the most expensive thing on the menu?"

I blink, confused. "Are we having Italian later?"

He laughs. "I'm just saying we're here now. We're around these people. If THEY can even believe we're together...Wow. You know?"

I blink. "...Yeah...Wow is right..."

Oh man! I said that out loud again!

He gestures to my drink. "Done?"

Huh. Guess I am. I hand my drink to him and watch as he takes the rest of his smoothly in one gulp. Then I stare, mesmerized, as he walks back over to the bartender, says something, and produces two more drinks. I notice THIS time, he doesn't pay for them.

"Got us in good with Josh," Kyle says with a wink as he comes back over to me. I snatch my drink from his hand and chug it all. Every last drop.

He laughs. "Slow down dude! You're not gonna be able to walk home."

I don't care. Right now I wanna drink. It was free anyway, so what's he complaining about? For $4.50 a drink I'd wanna be the bartender's friend too, but it's still really weird.

"It's free, why do you care?" I say, placing my empty glass on the table top behind me.

"Well then, Jesus, Stan, at least let me catch up to you!" He drops his head back and drinks half the glass of his fruity drink.

After successfully swallowing it, he drinks the remainder of the reddish liquid and sets his glass beside mine. "Wanna dance?"

I grin, feeling better now that I've gotten a little intoxicated. "Who leads this time?" I ask.

He laughs and punches me in the arm playfully. "You can. We'll switch off every couple songs."

We go out to the dance floor. I "lead." I guess for fast songs, leading means that I get to be the one grabbing Kyle and pushing him around. I don't grind on him though. Hell no. Everyone's still looking at my boyfriend, but Kyle's only looking at me.

The song switches over to a slower song, yet it's still fast enough to dance a beat to. I feel Kyle bring his arms up around my shoulders and his hips sway to the pattern of mine.

He leans his forehead in so that it's touching mine--I immediately look down. Okay, he's doing a damn good job at acting. Everyone in this whole club is fucking convinced.

Including me.

His hands move down and feel the chest of my mesh shirt a little. He's really committed to this role! Or, he's not playing this role at all. If he's not, it's pretty smart. Of all the ways to secretly feel a guy up, this is probably the greatest one ever. Better than 'accidentally' bumping into him or something.

Oh, Jesus! He's moving in closer to me. What the hell?!

"Kyle," I hear myself say lowly, barely above a whisper. I feel a cold chill creep down my neck as he continues to gaze into my eyes, our foreheads touching. I can't help but smile a little...he's so damn cute!

To my surprise, he returns my smile, just before he leans in...

Oh my god! He's kissing me! On the lips! For real! I'm shocked. I stop moving. I stop breathing. I stop everything! I'm totally shocked. My eyes bug out a little, but then close. I can't look at someone when they're kissing me. I don't think anyone can. It's really weird.

His lips taste so good. They're soft, they're inviting me...should I? Should I give in? Damnit Kyle, what are you doing?

I slowly sink into the kiss, returning it and opening my mouth a little. Just in case. Like Kyle would WANT to stick his tongue in my mouth.

Still...just in case. Holy fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, what is going on here? Kyle is either REALLY into this, or...

...Or he likes me.

He's still kissing me, and his mouth is opening too! I can feel his lips curling into a little smile, but I still can't look at him. His hand is on the back of my head now. It keeps us kissing. I put my hands on his back, deepening the kiss and closing the gap between us even more. I hope I'm good. Oh, shit. What if it's just the booze doing all this?

Suddenly I don't time to worry about it anymore. The kiss is already over just like that.

Huh. Well, it sure as hell FELT like it lasted forever. Or maybe I just wanted it to.

"How was that?" he says with a grin, pressing into my forehead, and patting my shoulder, but then pulling away, further than ever before. I think he's weirded out.

I have trouble formulating the right words to give him an answer, and before I know it, he's staring me down, waiting for an answer.

"Think it was believable?"

"...I...Uhh..."

"That bad huh?" He frowns, disappointed. Ouch. To take a step like that and think it sucked...No. Now I HAVE to say something. I can't let him think it sucked whether he's just drunk or acting or whatever. Especially when...it wasn't bad. At all.

"...It...was definitely beliveable," I say. I certainly bought into it.

"Yeah?" His frown begins to fade, transforming into one of the most satisfied-looking smiles I have ever seen him give. And with that, he grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me off the dance floor.

I stumble behind, desperately trying to keep up. "Yeah," I reply.

We sit back down again, away from everyone. I could already use another drink.

"Thanks for playing along," Kyle suddenly says to me.

"Playing a...long? Oh..." I blink. My jaw opens a little. I quickly hide my hurt feelings. "Oh, yeah, no problem dude," I say, shrugging it off. Now THAT'S a good acting job. Of COURSE he didn't mean it! I'm pretty stupid to think he might have by now.

"With any luck, this will be all over the school on Monday," he says. "I'm gonna get us some more drinks."

"Mm," I murmur, wanting nothing more than for him to go away so I can be alone with my disappointed expression.

I watch him as he jumps off his stool and walks toward the bar. My shoulders drop and I fixate my eyes on some dark spot in the corner of the table in front of me. Just then I feel the warmth of his hands on my shoulders again.

"By the way, man, you are one hell of a kisser," he says with that same grin. Two more pats and he makes his way to get us some more free drinks.

Another loud song starts. I take the opportunity to scream.

"AAAHHH!!!"

I can't take much more of this! I really can't! What's his game?! One minute he's acting, the next he seems to really like it! I can't keep doing this! I have to...Well, do something else...Something that somehow WON'T involve me having to tell him how I feel, 'cause that's way too much pressure.

What the hell am I gonna do then? Good thing I've got till Monday before I HAVE to see him again. I can avoid him for a full weekend, can't I?

Just because it's never happened before doesn't mean it CAN'T happen.


	6. Chapter 6

Holy potatoes, people! This chapter is LONG! Which, that's okay, because we took forever to update it, eh? I blame this on myself (IBB). Kyleisgod if the ever-wonderful always-ready-to-write RPing partner, and for that I thank him. My schedule created conflicts, but all of this is junk you don't care about. So I will say a brief statement: I love this story. I know you do too, and I thank you for the awesome abundance in reviews! We're probably looking at another chapter or two before the end, so hold on to your seats. It's a wild ride!

I'm just FULL of cliché phrases today, aren't I?

**Chapter 6**

Kyle's POV

I yawn and roll out of bed. Last night was awesome! I'm not even too hungover. Sweet!

I should call Stan. Actually, I should eat breakfast and shower and stuff, but I don't wanna stand up and move around yet. I can waste some time on the phone with him until I'm really awake. I dial, but no one answers. I don't leave a message since it's not important. I'll probably catch up with him later. I still don't want to move. I should call someone else. Its Saturday, which means Kenny spent the night at some girl's house. Or he's still at a bar. Huh. That only leaves...Cartman. I sigh. Do I REALLY wanna call him up?

UGH, FINE. I groan as I dial the numbers that I have no idea how I got to memorize.

Three rings, and a super sweet voice picks up. And it's not Liane.

"Hellllllooo Kahl, how are you doing this beautiful morning?"

"Hey Cartman, surprised you're up. It's not like you to be up before noon," I joke. Actually, it's not like Cartman to answer the phone like that either. Has he really changed for the better?

"Haha! That's a good one, Kahl!" Oh god, he's laughing at my jokes now? That ruins it! Half of them are about him being fat!

"I'm fine," I respond. "You?"

"I'm super awesome, thanks. What's goin' on?"

"You are SUPER...awesome? Don't you think that's a bit much, even for you?" I ask. What? I don't care what he says, Cartman is up to something. He can't change like that. I've known him for too long. Something is up.

"Why yes, Kahl. As in fabulously wonderful, can't complain, having a marvelous day so far. And much better now that you have graced my phone with your presence." He stops his ass kissing to clear his throat and produce a more serious tone. "But seriouslah, Kahl, for what do I owe this pleasant surprise?"

"I'm bored," I honestly admit.

"That's kewl, me too. You wanna hang out?"

"...What?"

"I asked if you wanna hang out."

"...With you?"

"Yes."

"...Alone? Like, with no witnesses around?"

He sighs into the receiver. "Kahl..."

I bite my bottom lip. "...Maybe. MAYBE okay? What do you wanna do?"

"I think we should go out," he says boldly. I hear him stutter quietly before adding, "You know, out in public."

Uh...Cartman wants to go out? Does he mean? Nah...he can't...

"Cartman, I-"

"Kahl. How many times do I have to tell you. My name is Eric," he corrects me.

"...Fine, Eric. And MY name is Kyle!" I scold him. "K-Y-L-E. Not 'Kahl' all right?"

"Please don't make fun of my accent. It's just the way I talk, Ky-le."

I roll my eyes. "WHAT accent?! Only you HAVE that accent! We grew up in the same town, and you're the only person around here who talks that way!"

"Are we hanging out or not?"

"Fine," I mutter. "I've got nothing else better to do."

I hear him pipe up. "What about Stanley?" His voice is curious, and almost plagued with hurt. Maybe even jealousy. Am I looking too into this? Probably.

"What ABOUT Stan? He and I hung out last night. Good night. He's not a morning person. Or afternoon, for that matter."

"I suppose you would know, hm?"

"...What do you mean by that?" Great. Now I'M sounding curious.

"Oh, nothing," he says. Sure.

I grow impatient. "You got a problem with me and Stan, Cartman?"

"Eric," he says in monotone.

"Answer the question!!"

"What's there to have a problem with?" he questions me.

"You tell me!" I bark. "Don't tell me 'nothing'."

I hear him sigh. "It's just that, well, you and Stan, it's...its all one big surprise, that's all. Are you sure-"

"I'm SURE," I echo.

"Let's go to the mall," he finally offers.

"...Why?" I ask. The mall? That's pretty gay.

"They have some kewl new stores there though."

I grit my teeth. "Accent" I remind him.

"Oh. Sorry Kyle."

"Fine," I finally agree.

"Oh, that's wonderful, KYLE," he coos. "I'll pick you up in 15 minutes."

I reluctantly hang up my phone and begin dressing for our fabulous mall meeting. Christ, I'm willingly going to meet Cartman, by myself, in a public place. What is this world coming to?

As I get into the shower, I begin thinking about last night. Man, that was a lot of fun. Who knew gay clubs could be such a blast?

I wonder if Stan had fun too? He seemed kinda bored for a little while. Oh well. I just won't drag him back there if he doesn't wanna go. Especially in that outfit. Heh. That was just mean. It wasn't that he looked...bad. He just looked uncomfortable. The whole night. No doubt leather pants can do that to a man. Doesn't give you much room to breathe where you need it.

I growl as I pull on my green T-shirt. What the hell is Cartman up to? I don't think he has it IN him to be civil.

I put on my shoes and head outside. Cartman's already waiting for me. This is a really bad idea. I know that, but I'm still going with him. I don't know how he always gets his way like that.

I should've packed a weapon or something. Or, maybe I should just learn to trust him more. I know he's a lying, manipulative asshole, but sometimes he tells the truth. Statistically he has to at least some of the time. Maybe this is real? Maybe he's like that boy who cried wolf and then really saw one?

In other words, I want a wolf to eat Cartman.

Or Cartman IS the wolf and he's about to pounce on me. In...any way...

Ugh, what am I thinking? The thoughts going through my head are making me nauseous. I really hope it's not what I'm thinking. Cause if its anywhere near the thoughts I'm thinking, I'm thinking I'm going to have a lot to think about when the damage has been done and I'm stuck in the little padded cell for losing it.

...Again. Only THIS time I really WOULD be crazy.

"Hurray, we're here!" Cartman says, breaking my thought process. I shrug, not nearly as excited. It's just the stupid mall.

We get out and go inside. We wander aimlessly for a couple minutes, until we stop at a clothing store.

Not really sure why we stop at this particular clothing store. There's a bunch of girls standing near the window, and it takes me a little while to notice that it's a girl's ONLY clothing store.

"Uh...Eric...we can't go into this store," I inform him, sure he's completely unaware of what the deal is.

"Why not?" he questions innocently.

I blink. "Huh? D-dude, you KNOW this is a girl's clothes store, right?"

"So? It's not like we're gonna go into the changing room. Silly Kyle." He laughs.

"..." What the fuck?! Does he want me to dress up like a GIRL for a little charade or something? I pause angrily.

"Is THAT what you're trying to get me to do?"

He stares at me blankly. "Whatever do you mean, Kyl-"

"Cause just cause I'm gay doesn't mean I'm a fucking GIRL!" I roar, loud enough that the girls stop what they're doing to whisper to their girlfriends.

"Now now Kyle, you're making a scene," he informs me politely. I probably am, but I don't care. The idea that all gays are cross dressers is generalizing them as people. Someone needs to tell people like Cartman that, or else they're gonna just go on believing it.

"Oh!" he says, surprised. "Hey look Kyle, it's some girls from school. Wow! Hey ladies!" He waves. What the hell?

I see they're hesitant too. Naturally, a fatass and his tall claimed-to-be-gay friend are walking up to them. Or at least the fatass is. I prefer to keep my distance.

"Hi Cartman," they all mutter, equally as embarrassed to be talking to him as I am to be near this goddamned store.

He moves closer to them. I stand back, watching.

"Nice day isn't it?" he says. "Me and Kyle were just gonna get some food. Are you girls hungry?"

I stifle a laugh. I can't remember the last time I saw Cartman eat and not take everyone else's food. It's pointless for him to even ASK if we're hungry cause it's too bad if we are anyway.

The girls hesitate, rightfully so. I decide to swoop in for some...backup? For who, Cartman? Only buddies give their guys backup. And I am NOT Cartman's buddy.

I'd give Stan backup, but he's never been into these girls for some reason. It's weird. They followed me around all the time, but Stan was all too happy to help me get rid of 'em. You'd think he'd love it. All the chicks a guy could want and all he had to do to get 'em was hang out with his best friend.

"There's a new burger in the food court," Cartman said. 'Orange Smoothie machine..." He rattles off other food items, but I stop listening. He probably knows every store in the mall's food court and has a review for it. Fat ass.

One girl opts to slide past Cartman and head toward me, I notice. I try to turn away before she gets there, but then I feel sorry for her too so I stay.

"Hey Kyle," she says seductively. So sick of hearing girls try to turn me on by their low voices. Girl's voices just aren't MEANT to be low. Or sexy.

"Hello" I say back as monotonously as possible. I don't need some girl claiming I gave her mixed signals and broke her heart or something. Women are insane.

Seeing his...I guess plan failing, Cartman tries another approach.

"Um, th-that's kewl. Maybe we could all go to a movie?"

Another girl squeezes past him and the wall to get near me. Ugh, what IS it with the female population?!?

Well, I guess if I were one, and I had a choice between me or Cartman, I'd be heading for me too. That's not me being egotistical either.

"Kyle would YOU like to see a movie?" Cartman turns to me and asks. I glance up, surprised he'd even ask me.

"Uh, sure?" I say. I don't know if he's trying to help me out and get me away from these skanks, or if he's...ASKING me to a movie, or what. Actually, I don't even know what's out. I know the floor's gonna be sticky and the tickets are gonna be overpriced, but right now I don't care. I don't want some nasty girls hanging all over me.

...Wow, some guy I am.

"Oh that sounds great, Kyle, doesn't it, you guys?" he asks the girls and practically begins skipping in the direction of the theaters. I hold in my laughter as I watch the fat beneath his rolls jiggle with every bouncy step. Poor guy. Would he EVER be attractive even if he weren't an asshole? He's so damn fat!

I shouldn't be judging people. Not everyone can look as good as Stan does in skintight leather pants.

Not only that, but Stan's a good kisser too. I doubt Cartman could physically please people either. He'd be too selfish and lazy. So basically, he has nothing going for him. Unless he can get rich and land a gold digger, I guess.

I literally push past the girls. I make a mental note to thoroughly scrub my hand later. I catch up to Cartman, only to smack into him when he stops and looks back. Thankfully, none of the girls are following us.

"What the fuck are we doing, Cartman?" I breathe angrily. Don't know why, I'm just on edge with him.

"We're going to the movies with these lovely ladies, Kyle. What's the matter. You too gay to be seen with girls, KYLE?"

I don't like the way he said my name that last time. I have a feeling his true plan is going to shine through very soon.

"The girls aren't coming," I say.

He blinks, seeming surprised. "...What?"

I point my finger, showing him the girls are either staying put, or walking in the opposite direction. The ones staying are pouting at me now, probably because they want me to hang out by the store some more. Screw that.

"Ladies!" Cartman calls out. "Come on, let's go!"

They pretend they don't hear him, stand awkwardly for another few seconds, then pull out a cell phone and lamely pretend they were called. One girl shrugs at me as the others walk away, her soon to follow.

"What the hell," I catch Cartman mutter, baffled that his oh-so-brilliant plan fell through. What the fuck was he even trying to do?

His confusion turns into a scowl as he looks toward me. If I were into girls and they turned me down, I'd be pissed too I guess.

"Come on Eric, let's go to the mo-"

"Don't call me Eric," he says interrupting me.

"...Huh?"

"Don't you ever, EVER call me Eric again you fucking Jew-rat hippie FAGGOT!! What the HELL DID YOU DO?!"

I stand with my eyes glued open, waiting for more. Anything. An explanation. Let it all come out, ERIC.

Fucker.

"What are you talking about, Cartman," I say, gritting my teeth. I feel my face getting hot, even though he's done nothing really to surprise me yet.

His face reddens. "You son of a bitch. I knew this would happen! I KNEW it! You turn gay, and now the girls don't follow you around anymore! You just HAD to like buttsex and screw it up for me, didn't you?!"

I shrug. At least he's not hitting on me. "They were following ME around just fine!" I point out. "Now what the hell's going on?!"

"Fuck you, asshole! I didn't spend weeks kissing your ass for nothing!"

It suddenly dawns on me. He wasn't ever trying to get WITH me. He was trying to get with them by being NEAR me. Like I thought Stan always would've tried. Difference is, they woulda gone for Stan. He's hot.

"Cartman, you can't use me to get the girls. Even with me, you're still a selfish racist asshole," I reply with balled fists. Throughout my teenage years, the only good thing my mom's ever done for me is teach me simple anger management techniques. Techniques that would come in handy everyday with that fat asshole.

He growls. "I hate you, KAHL. Hate you so much..."

"I didn't do anything. It's not MY fault girls don't go for you! I'm right aren't I? That was your whole plan! This whole time! Hang out with me and get closer to women!"

A low noise builds in his throat before he finally blurts out an angry "YES! All right?! Yes! I thought if I hung out with you I'd get chicks! Now you know and I'm GLAD you do because NOW I can stop pretending to actually LIKE your sorry ass! I don't know what Jew trickery you used to get the girls to stop crawling all over your friends like they do with Stan, but so help me God I'm gonna get you back for it!"

They ARE all over Stan, too. He never notices them. He's so low on himself, always thinking he's not good enough or whatever. Bullshit. Total bullshit. That's why I chose him to play my little game with. Dude this game with Cartman is weak.

I knew better. Still, I can't help but dish a few more insults to leave him more wounded than before. "Actually, a lot of the girls are STILL all over Stan," I tell him. "I'm not surprised you didn't notice that. You wouldn't recognize what having girls all over you is like. You never will either. Not unless you can buy one for a few hours to pretend you're not repulsive looking. You should skip that movie and use the money to go get a blowup doll, 'cause you're gonna need it."

I see his left eye twitch, like the way it does when I've just punched him. I can see the tears begin to build up, but before they even shine through he's storming off, pulling his hat over top of his head and stuffing his hands into his pocket.

Serves him RIGHT fucking douchebag! Using me for my girl-attracting skills. Sad thing is, I'd give them up in a second if I knew how. Christ, I'd even give them to HIM if it'd stop his bitching and it'd stop MY problem!

I'm glad I came up with my little plan. Even if it's not working completely, it's still lots of fun. I've been so happy lately hanging out with Stan.

Fuck, how'm I supposed to get back from the mall now? No way am I sharing another ride with that piece of shit. No way would he let me. I guess I'd better start walking now. God dammit. I pull my coat on as I head outside into the cold.

I feel the frost set into my fingertips, even through a thick layer of mittens (yes mittens) as I trudge through the solid ankle-level snow to get out of just the parking lot. This is going to suck. I can't walk home in this; I didn't wear my snow boots.

I stop to catch my breath, seeing it visibly in the chilled air, and look up at the sky. Fuck it, Stan's going to be woken up whether he likes it or not.

I put my cell phone to my ear. It rings six times, then I hear a machine answer. I hang up and call right back. I know Stan. He's ignoring the phone just like he ignores his alarm button. Come on Stan, this is important.

He finally picks up, coughing a little in the background before he puts the phone to his ear, groaning. "Whaaaaaaat?" he whines.

Heh, cute. "Get your ass out of bed and come pick me up," I instruct the still-sleeping drone formerly (and soon to be again) known as Stan.

"Kyle?" he changes tones almost immediately. Christ, he really MUST be tired or hungover or something. He NEVER questions my voice. It's like a sixth sense we have.

Yeah dude, it's me," I confirm. "I'm stuck at the mall."

He yawns. "The hell are you doing at the mall?"

"Cartman." Before he can question that simple statement, I shut him up. "Long story. Look, are you gonna be able to or what? My ass is freezing off out here!"

"...Why don't you go inside?" he asks innocently. So innocently that is makes me smile. He probably thought I haven't thought of that yet. Haha.

...Come to think of it, why DON'T I go inside? I probably should've tried getting a ride BEFORE leaving the mall. Christ, and they call ME the smart one between Stan and I.

"Yeah, okay. Call me when you get here and I'll meet you outside, Okay?"

He mumbles something, still waking up.

"Thanks Stan."

He mumbles again, but I hang up before he can reject me. And so I climb back over the snow and the curb and speed directly into the mall, where I can feel a warm blast of air immediately relax me from head to toe. I take a seat on the bench next to the arcade, smiling as I remember fun times had in that place.

I figure I'll give Stan fifteen minutes. It'll take him a while to get outta bed, throw some clothes on, and get his ass down here. I'm not freezing my ass off waiting for him. Hm. I should buy him something while I'm here. A token of my appreciation.

What can I buy him, what can I buy him? I wander aimlessly through the crappy mall, passing clothing shops and overpriced department stores. I finally walk near the off-the-wall weird shit store, and decide it best to get him a gag gift. After all, whenever I embarrass Stan, he goes so red it's almost too adorable to pass up. I skim the shelves, noting there are penis necklaces, nude card games, and an actual male enhancement pump.

Heh. I'm leaning toward the penis pump. The look on his face would be hysterical! Especially considering he doesn't even need any help in that area, from what I remember. It's expensive though. I already bought all those toys to keep up our appearances. I don't know if I can afford another one. Then again, I'm not going anywhere with Cartman now. And I shouldn't conform to the stereotype of being a cheap Jew...What the hell? Dick pump it is.

The cashier takes one look at my purchase, gives me a suspicious eye, and then not so nonchalantly rises up on her toes to peek over the counter at the front of my jeans.

Noticing this, I grin widely. "Yeah, I wore my last one out. These things aren't what they used to be," I state while tapping the box with my index finger.

She rings it up and I pay her. I'm not surprised she's checking me out. To work at a place like this you've probably gotta be a huge pervert. Or at least have a really, really good sense of humor like me. Oh man, this is gonna be awesome. I'd better get out there before Cartman sees me with this thing. Or someone else. I don't need to be ripped on for something that isn't even true about myself.

Of course, even if they did, Stan could always defend me. He'd "know" better than anyone about that area, right?

I stroll out of the shop happily, whistling a tune and swinging the bag back and forth. Enough minutes have gone by that Stan SHOULD be on his way, so when I make it back near the cinema and food court, I park myself on a bench. I watch as all the chatty girls rush by, stealing glances my way.

Why does it bother me so much that they're ALWAYS looking at me?

I'd say it's because I hate drawing attention to myself, but well, that's bullshit based on the stuff I've been doing lately. Maybe it's just because when I do that stuff, I'm having fun? It's amusing. It's with Stan. The rest of time, the attention is unwanted. From a bunch of dumb girls I could care less about.

I shrug my shoulders to answer my own question and sit quietly again, observing the passersby. When one passerby doesn't so much pass me by as sits right next to me, I'm brought out of my concentration. I realize its Stan.

"Dude!" I cry, too happy to see him. Another minute in here and I'd be contemplating the human condition.

"Hey" he says to me. "You ready to go?"

I smile. "Oh yeah. Thanks for picking me up."

He shrugs. "Whatever. Let's get you home so I can get back to sleep."

I nod. "Just remember to take this with you when you drop me off."

I hold out the bag, grinning from ear to ear. He looks at it curiously.

"It's a gift. Take it, asshole!"

"You got me a gift? Why?"

"Cuz!"

He seems to accept this, because he takes the bag. Yes! This is gonna be hilarious!

He stares at the bag quizzically and purses his lips. He sneaks a hand into the opening, but I swat it away.

"Not in here," I advise, my smile not going anywhere.

He half smiles at me back, and I wonder what's going on in that cute sleepy head of his.

We get into his car. "Now?" he asks me.

I shake my head. "Not yet." I don't need him freaking out and talking to me about it while we're driving.

A small whimper escapes his lips, and he bounces up and down in the seat like a little boy. This is perfect. He is way stoked for it. Ha, its gonna be awesome.

Just to make sure he doesn't peek, I snatch it from him and toss it into the back seat.

"Where to?" he asks.

"...Home?" I say unsurely. I THOUGHT he wanted to go back and get some sleep, but if he's offering, I'm really not ready to say goodbye to him just yet.

Stan shrugs and starts driving toward my house. This sucks. I'd planned to spend a lot more time out today. Now I'm trying to think of something else to do so I don't have to go home after an hour like a lame-ass. I'll have way more fun hanging out with Stan than with Cartman anyway.

"Have you eaten?" I ask him.

He turns to me and glares in response. The kind of glare that is made out of someone who secretly wants to say "whaddayou think asshole." The kind where he drops his chin and raises his eyebrows and swerves on the road in the direction his face turned. I don't know why I notice this, but its really freaking noticeable.

"What??!" I ask curiously. It's a legitimate question!

"What was I doing when you called me, Kyle."

"...Sleeping?"

He nods. "Do you THINK I've eaten?"

What the hell is his deal? He's not pouting because he can't open his present yet, is he?

"Well, maybe you grabbed something on the way out. How the fuck should I know?"

"Do you see any food in the car?"

I glare back at him. "Fine, sorry I'm such a retard."

"I forgive you."

I want to snap at him again, but that remark was kinda funny. Cute, in a way. I guess.

"Fine, then let's GET some food," I offer.

"I'm not hungry yet," he begins, but I cut him off.

"Well I AM!"

To this, his shoulders noticeably drop. Ha, I've won this round. I decide to pick on him again. "Damn man, you're grumpy if you don't take your vitamins."

"Shut up," he mutters, and I see him blush again. He's been doing that a LOT lately.

"Where do you wanna eat?" he asks.

"I don't care."

"Well that doesn't help me drive there does it?"

"God, you NEED more sleep. You're a bitch in the morning."

"I'll kick you out of this car Kyle. I swear to God."

"No you won't," I state firmly. "And if you do, you'll feel bad for stranding me and come back before some weirdo picks me up in his van."

He shoots me that glaring look again, but this time it's brief. Christ, what crawled up his ass? "What were you doing here with Cartman anyway," he asks as a casual slip into the conversation.

"Nothing. Big mistake."

He snorts. "Yeah I'd say so! When is it EVER a good idea to go along with him?"

I turn my head and stare at my interrogating best friend. "Is that what's got your boxers in a twist? Jesus, dude, he's not EVER going to replace you."

"As what?" he asks me after a small pause. His voice is cautious. Maybe even sad.

"Huh? As ANYTHING dude," I elaborate with a confused raised eyebrow of my own.

"So...He's NOT your new fake boyfriend?"

I snort. Then laugh. Then laugh harder and longer.

"Dude! Are you serious?! HELL NO! Why would you think that?"

He sighs. "I just...I thought about it after I woke up a little more. You've been hanging out with him a lot lately and...I don't know. I just thought maybe I was doing a bad job or something."

His statement shocks me. "I've been...hanging out with him a lot?"

Stan raises his eyebrows and nods, eyes still on the road.

This causes me to reach new levels of laughter, and I double over in pain before it even begins to die down. "Stan," I say while taking a breather. "You CAN'T do a bad job. You're EXACTLY what I want. You can act the part better than anyone!"

Stan slowly nods his head. His frown starts to fade, but doesn't quite go away completely. "Yeah. I guess I'm...a pretty good actor..."

"You're also the only one I trust enough to do something this crazy with. You're my best friend dude. Cartman can't take your place there, or in this little scheme. In fact, no one can. Okay?"

"Is that why I get a gift?" he inquires. His eyes light up and he is beaming, and it is just...so friggin' adorable. Really Stan is quite attractive. Those big blue eyes are awesome. But when he smiles like that he has this little boy charm in him. I can't help but smile back at his reaction.

I nod my head. "A token of my love." I stifle a giggle. "To show you how special you are."

"So special I can open it now?" he asks hopefully.

"Not yet."

He growls, but I think it's more out of anticipation than frustration. "So where ARE we gonna eat, anyway?" he asks to change the subject.

I say nothing, as it was more of a ploy to stay with Stan. We drive a bit more, and I spot a sign for a pancake house. He pulls into the parking lot and finds a space close to the building.

"This is where we're eating because I said so," he informs me.

"Fine by me." I unbuckle my seat belt and wait for him to make the first move. When he just sits there, I look over at him. "Hey, you going in?"

Whatever daze he was in, guess I knocked him out of it, cause he blinks his eyes and gets out of the car. I follow him to the quaint dump. We walk into the "seat yourselves" joint and Stan grabs the furthest booth from the smoking next to the window.

I plop down in the seat across from him and pull out the menu sticking out behind the used ketchup bottles.

Pretty standard breakfast stuff from the looks of it. Come to think of it, I'm not even that hungry. Maybe I'll make Stan split some pancakes with me. God, he's really being my bitch today.

Heh. Awesome.

Speaking of being my bitch, my brain goes into acting mode, and I suddenly realize we're in a public place. We need to act more...cozy. Without even thinking, I mumble, "scoot over" and I get out of my side and slide in right next to him.

He stiffens his back visibly as my entire left side touches his right side.

I look back at my menu. "Now, where were we? Oh yeah! Let's split something."

"Kay…"

I know there's no one from school around, but this is like second nature now. It's just what we do whether we have to or not. It's not like it's a big deal anyway, so whatever.

"You wanna split some pancakes?" I ask.

"I guess."

"Kay. What about a drink?"

"Huh?"

"Ya know, the old one glass, two straws thing."

"Kyle, don't you think you're overdoing-"

"And we should probably tell the waitress we want this all on one bill. I'm paying for my boyfriend." I say that so naturally now. It's no wonder people are starting to believe us.

"It'd be easier on her that way," Stan reasons, and I see the numbers he's trying to crunch in his head.

I reach over him to put the menu back and then lean back, extending my arm around his shoulders. I feel him start to relax and then kind of sink into my arm. It's nice.

"But I control the syrup thing," he orders. "I don't need my boyfriend going into diabetic shock or something."

He rests his head on my shoulder. It's more of a reflex, just like calling me his boyfriend. This is so cool. So natural. I like this...I -really- like this. I must. No other actors do this. No one stays in character whenever they're in public except wrestlers.

I kick my feet up on the other side of the booth and look over at him. From my vantage point, I see a lot of shaggy black hair and a rosy cheek.

"You smell good, Stan," I notice. "You using a new shampoo?"

He shrugs. "Haven't showered. I smell like sweat and dance."

I lean in and purposely sniff him. He smells great to me. "Then it must be just you, dude."

He blushes again. That boy just cannot take a compliment.

"Thanks" he finally says, burying his face in his menu.

The waitress lady comes over and takes our order. She asks me to take my feet off the booth. Whatever, whore. I do it. No need to cause a scene and get our food fucked with. I order water with two straws and pancakes. I'll have syrup on the pancakes, so I can't handle a soda.

After she leaves, I see Stan frown.

"What now," I demand, only pretending to be irritated.

"You ordered for me again," he huffs.

"She looked at me first!"

"Are you ALWAYS going to order for me? I'm in this (pretend) relationship too, ya know! I should have a say!"

I chuckle. "Jeez, dude you're moody today. Did you forget your Midol?"

He growls, and I just squeeze my arm against him harder, nestling up his body, all nice and cozy. "Well, what did YOU wanna order?"

"...Pancakes," he confesses. "But it shoulda been MY choice!"

"You can order for me next time okay? Calm down. We'll talk about this at home."

"A-at home?" he stutters.

I play roll my eyes and give him a squeeze. "Come on, don't tell me you're going to move out because of THAT. We haven't even BEGUN to have real fights, dude."

His mouth forms a lopsided grin. It is one of the hottest smiles I have ever seen Stan make. He lifts his head and nods as if saying, "yeah alright." We go back to smiling at each other.

Our drink comes with the two straws. Hm. I guess since we're sitting on the same side of the table it doesn't really work as well. His elbow keeps bumping me. Meh, whatever. We still freaked out the people around us. The look on that waitress's face when she came back was priceless.

What is even more priceless is the extra long glance she stole at my "boyfriend." I have a feeling she's disappointed he's 'taken'. I decide to have some fun with that.

"Our waitress totally wants you, Stan," I quietly tell him once she's out of earshot.

His eyes go wide. "What?! No she doesn't." He searches the restaurant with his eyes.

I nod. "She can't have you though. You're mine." This I say loud enough for other's to hear.

That blush of his comes back on his face as he sinks back into my arm.

If he thinks he's blushing now though, wait until he sees the present.

"She's probly just desperate for a good tip," Stan reasons.

"Well, yeah, but she still thinks you're hot. She's not looking at ME like that."

"Dude, whatever."

"She wants your hot body."

"Shut up, Kyle!"

I smile. "Don't tell ME to shut up!" I argue playfully, still loud enough for others to hear. "Just for that, no hot sex tonight!"

"WHAT?!" Stan's voice booms and shrieks at the same time, making me giggle uncontrollably. I think he's shocked I would say such a thing, but I'm playing if off like he's offended. I detach my arm from the back of his neck and slide over to the other side of the booth. Then, just for show, I cross my arms and pretend to be pissed.

I think Stan catches on, because he audibly huffs and snuggles up to me.

"Oh no, don't try to make up now!" I say.

"Goddammit we'll discuss it at home!" he answers with a wink. "Can't I just...eat my breakfast in peace?"

"Fine!" I snap, trying not to smile. It sounded like he'd lifted an argument from his parents on that one. It was cute. EVERYTHING he did was cute.

I fish for his hand under the seat, never tearing my eyes off of his. For some reason, the twinkle in the blue is really noticeable today, and they're really mesmerizing. When I successfully retrieve what I am looking for, I grab onto his hand and give it a light squeeze. He blinks, but then grins wider.

His fingers maneuver until they are alternating with mine. He takes a sip from MY straw and sits back in the seat really close to me.

Oh, good, our food's here. They probably want to rush us out of here for making a scene. They'd better not have messed with our order. If they did, we'll cry discrimination and eat for free here the rest of our lives.

Stan is controlling how much syrup is on my pancakes. Asshole. Always looking out for me. Making sure I don't do the wrong thing even when the wrong thing is really, really delicious. Oh well. I'll have my revenge on him soon.

For the most part, we eat our pancakes in peace. Every once in a while, I sneak a smile and a glance over his direction, and he usually returns the looks. At one point, I reach over and squeeze his leg just as he's taken a big bite. He squeals and makes a gagging noise, and at first, I think he's choking.

Then I realize he just has the pancake stuck in his throat.

Oh SHIT that IS choking!

I give him the Heimlich maneuver, which is totally the gayest life-saving move ever. Besides mouth-to-mouth when you're drowning. If we didn't look super gay before, we do now. I've got my arms around his waist, with Stan practically bent over the table. Okay, he's okay now. I'm totally not gonna do that again.

"Sorry dude," I manage out after he's calmed down and is just plain wheezing now.

He shakes his head and puts his hand in my face as a signal for "stop". Then he digs into his back pocket frantically, bumping the table and nearly spilling our two-strawed drink. He pulls out his inhaler, and takes a big puff. Huh. I didn't even know he kept that thing back there. It doesn't show through his jeans.

He breathes into it a couple times. His breathing is getting back to normal. Crap, now I feel bad. I guess we CAN take this thing too far sometimes. But still, it's fun.

I pat him on the back lightly. "Are you okay?" I ask concerned. That is such a stupid question to ask, really, but I can't think of anything else to say. He closes his eyes and relaxes a bit, eventually nodding.

"I didn't mean to-"

"I know," he cuts me off, finally managing some words.

I think what probably started this whole thing wasn't the fact that I squeezed his leg. It was the fact that I squeezed his leg so close to...well...yeah. I didn't mean to though. Honestly.

We settle back down and eat like normal people. We finish and pay our single bill. Stan doesn't seem mad at me. I'm happy about that. I guess accidents just happen.

We walk back out to his car after dropping off the tip, and I notice Stan unlocks the door for me and waits for me to get in before he even goes over to his side of the car. He just kinda stands there awkwardly, almost ready to say something, but nothing ever comes out.

I just shrug my shoulders and get in anyway. A few minutes, we're on the road again. And it is silent in here. DEAD silent.

Even though he doesn't seem mad, he seems...something. Off, somehow. Maybe I should say something?

"Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"...You okay?"

"Yeah, fine dude."

"'Kay...Um, I'm really sorry about the choking."

"Yeah..." he replies, his voice trailing off. He takes a deep breath before continuing. "Kyle, I think people have already gotten the picture by now."

I frown. "You think we should stop?"

"No," he says quickly. "At least...I don't know."

"Tone it down?" I question, still sounding sad. "Stan, I'm sorry about today okay? It was an accident."

"I know. That's okay. It's just...It's just that...Um..."

"...Just what?" I ask, patiently waiting for an answer.

"It's just..." He pauses. "...We can only go so far."

I blink, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well like, we're obviously comfortable doing...some stuff, right? But...But we keep outdoing ourselves. I mean, Christ, what are we gonna have to do next to show our gayness? Strip down and lay in a bed together and get 'caught' by some girls that want us?"

"...That's not a bad idea..."

"Kyle!!!"

"No, I mean it!" I say, pretending to build on to the idea. "We could schedule a time-"

"Kyle."

"And a meeting date-"

"Kyle..."

"And we could advertise it to the entire school!" I actually like the sound of that idea.

Stan shakes his head and smiles. "Jesus Christ, dude! You really ARE into this!"

"Well...yeah..." I say, as if that were a no-brainer. I REALLY want those girls to get the picture.

"Dude, we can't just...act gay whenever we have a problem with a girl. Acting gay never...solves anything..." He laughs at how retarded that sounds out loud and out of context. I join him.

"Well, it's working pretty good so far," I argue.

"Yeah, but like I said, we can only go so far with it until...Until it actually becomes gay. Really, REALLY gay Kyle." He looks at me for my response.

"So you think we should stop before that point, huh?" I ask, begging for input. Something tells me Stan is starting to not like the idea anymore.

His shoulders drop, and I can see the frustration behind his troubled expression. He doesn't answer me, but rather drives quickly and directly to my house. I notice this cause the minute I take my eyes off of him, we're in my driveway.

"I'll see you in school Monday," he finally says to me.

"...Yeah, okay," I say back. I'm doing my best to pretend everything's fine, but it's not. It's awkward, and Stan won't tell me what's up. I guess maybe he wants to stop. I guess he's just having trouble not hurting my feelings. I won't make him say it.

I get out of the car and wave goodbye. He pulls right out of my driveway. I can see him looking sad through the window. I'm sad too, honestly. He makes a good point, but I didn't want this to end. I didn't think he did either. He said he didn't, but he's probably just being nice. Actually, I'm surprised he's put up with it for this long. Gotten so into it. He's a great guy. A nice guy. A guy anybody would be lucky to have.

I had him, sort of, and I guess I blew it. Fuck me.

I shuffle my feet to the front door, grabbing onto the brass handle and opening it. My family is all busy at work around the house, and at some point, I probably wouldn't have minded helping them out.

Instead, I trudge up to my room and plop down on my bed, unsure of why I'm feeling so down. I think about giving him a call to talk about the whole thing, but figure since he said he didn't want to see me until MONDAY, he must need some space.

Some space. Pfft! That's what girls say. He's such a fucking pussy. And HE says we're acting too gay?

I know I shouldn't be mad at him, but I am. I'm mad he doesn't like this anymore. Why the hell not? Why would he go THIS far with it and then just stop? He seemed like he was having a great time.

It's almost like he's broken up with me.

Well, fuck him. If we can't act like we're together, then I guess I'm just gonna have to say yes to those stupid girls. And then maybe he'll see what he's missing. Cause, come on, I'm a fun guy.

I do a lot for Stan. I pay for his drinks, I take him out dancing, I give him presents...

SHIT!

I forgot about the present! God dammit! Just another thing that got ruined for me today. I hope Stan remembers it. I hope he sees it. I'm sure he'll at least give it back to me. Good. That'll force him to talk to me again soon. I just hope he opens it first.

Yeah, that'll show him. He'll open it, and find out his character has a small penis. A small, flaccid penis that can't satisfy me. That's why I'll need girls from now on. If I can't pretend to be gay with Stan, I don't wanna pretend to be gay with anybody! He can kiss my hetero ass!!

I slam my pillow down on my bed and growl angrily at my room. This day is gonna go by so fucking slow if I don't do something to keep me busy, so I march myself downstairs, practically begging my mom for some housework.

Crazy, I know. Anything to get my mind off of my so-called 'boyfriend.'


	7. Chapter 7

Okay everyone. This is it. The FINAL chapter! I know, I know. It came at you fast, but, believe me, we have been battling back and forth whether to stretch it out and…it was just its time. That's all there is to say about it. We love how it ends, and hope you do too.

Note from IBB: We got a lot of reviews asking nicely to update, and I'm sorry it wasn't done sooner. Busy lives, you know? But, at any rate, I want to thank all of the reviewers, readers, and silent admirers for your interest in this story. I had a great time co-writing it, and when you can laugh while writing or reading something, you know it's probably going to gain at least _some_ feedback. So thank you once again! No worries, kyleisgod and I will probably collaborate again for your reading pleasure!

**Chapter 7**

Stan's POV

This is driving me crazy! He almost touched my dick! My DICK! Jesus Christ!

I'm not even mad. It surprised me. It made me choke a little, but otherwise it would've been nice. Too nice. You can pretend to date someone. You can even pretend to kiss them and say you're a couple living together, but damn near touching private parts? That's going too far. That's not pretending.

Kyle's not pretending anymore. And if he is, he's way, WAY too into it. I can't let him keep torturing me like that.

I mean, come on, who does he think he's fooling? Is he really gonna sit there and tell me he ISN'T enjoying this? Lord knows I am, and I can't help but forget that we're pretending sometimes.

That breakfast...had to be the weirdest fucking experience I have EVER had. Mostly cause at first I thought I was just the fall back after whatever with Cartman fell through. But then as we were eating, I just told myself to go with it, and get what little of Kyle play I could get in.

But that wasn't little. That was huge.

For god's sake, our characters are living together now. Huh. I guess that means we have cool fictional parents. Or they died or something. But even more than that, two straws? Come on. That thing has my germs on it. We seriously could've been making out at that point. We were making out through the straw.

...Or, considering what straws are for, doing worse things...Oh, Jesus...

I adjust myself as I lay with my legs crossed on my bed. After I dropped him off, I drove straight back to my house, went straight up to my room, and locked the door. Then I almost had a heart attack getting off to the feel of his hand still on my leg. It wasn't, of course, but I didn't forget what it felt like.

He was so. Fucking. Close! I wonder if he felt anything. Or if that was his intention all along.

I sigh and look for some pants. I feel better now. And even though Kyle's torturing me with that stuff, I don't want it to stop. I want it to go on forever. I would be totally happy with being his "pretend boyfriend". Because I know its not the case anymore.

I just wish HE knew that. How can I get him to realize this? Apparently directly asking him and telling doesn't work. It didn't even begin to register in that thick head of his.

He's so convinced he's doing this to keep the girls away.

But, again, that SHOULD be a sign that he's not INTO girls.

Doesn't he see how gay we're getting? How can't he? Kyle can't be -that- thickheaded. That stubbornly in denial maybe, but not that stupid.

I've gotta do something. Maybe I should go back and talk to him? Yeah. Go explain why I got weird. Now that my...head's cleared, I can express myself better.

I lift my body to pull up my underwear then swing my legs over the side of the bed and step into my discarded pants. As I pull them up, I graze over the spot where he grabbed my leg, and I immediately get stiff again.

Jesus Christ its like I'm fucking star struck.

I breathe deep and ignore that intense feeling I'm getting in my stomach as I shuffle over to put on my shoes.

I walk back down to my car. I should do this face to face. I don't know exactly what I'm gonna say to him, but I know it should be in person after all this.

Oh, there's his present. I forgot about that. I guess he did too. I'm smiling now. That's pretty cool he got me a gift. It's not even my birthday. He said it was a gift of his affection. I should open it. It'll give me something to talk about when I go back there.

I open my car door and step inside, swiveling around to retrieve the plastic bag. I stare at the outside for about four seconds, trying to decide where the non-descript bag came from. What store he could've went into to get it. Then my mind reels with possibilities of what this present could be.

Perhaps a confession somehow? Fuck, I have no clue. And why am I even playing this game? He's not here, I can open it now.

I pull back the box and rip away some of the wrapping paper. It's a...It's a...

OH MY GOD!!!!!

It's a dick pump! A dick pump?! I look at it closer to make sure. Yep! A dick pump! Not a normal present. Not a construction set. A penis pump.

What the HELL does that mean?!

"What the fuck, Ky!?" I cry out loud, baffled by the present in my hands.

What is he trying to tell me? What the hell? How...does he think I need to USE this thing? If so then...WHOA.

My mind is spinning. Maybe I have him all pegged wrong. Maybe he's just fucking with me AGAIN. Maybe he really just dedicates himself to the part!

He said it was a token of his affection. To show me how special I am. WHAT THE FUCK!

He almost touched me. Maybe he was...sizing me up? Or maybe he's just an asshole. Maybe he WANTS me to use this thing. Maybe...Oh, god...

Shit. I can't go over there now. What would I say? "Nice present you got me Kyle. You want me to tell you if it works?"

I mean, damn dude! What...why...this isn't even funny! And I know Kyle gets a kick out of gag gifts. And I know he usually thinks he's real funny when he's not. Maybe that's all it is.

But then why would he give me something so expensive?! He doesn't spend money like that.

Who gets an expensive gag gift like this? One so...personal. Dude!! A friggin' PENIS PUMP?! I don't need this! I'm insulted! I was just touching it. It's a perfectly good size!

Maybe he just wants me to show him I don't need it. Maybe he's telling me he's curious...Oh, Christ...What if he wants me to use it on HIM?

...I need to go back upstairs now.

Stupid dumbass Kyle. Thinking you're being so clever, giving me a present with no explanation.

A token of your love. Pfft. What love?

Wait. Is he trying to tell me he loves my...but then why would he want me to alter it? Goddammit this makes no sense!

Man, I can't face him now. This is embarrassing. What...what kind of best friend gives his best friend THAT?! I stare at it, mortified.

What am I supposed to do with it? I'm not using it. I'm not keeping it in my house. I'm not giving it back to him. Maybe I'll just...take it back to the store? Can you even return something like this? No, screw it. He bought it. It's his stupid ass fault if he blew his money on a gift that makes no sense.

He told me he'd bought other stuff before to keep up appearances. Maybe that's all this is?

Whatever it was for, I don't want to spend another minute thinking about it. Or holding it, ugh! I drop it back into the bag and tuck it under my seat so that no one could even see a bag, much less what is in it.

I step out of the car backwards and slowly, almost like my world is rewinding. Taking a few steps back, I spin around and walk back into my house. That feeling in my stomach has been replaced with a darker emotion.

I'm angry, I think. Angry and confused. These games have to stop. We're not girls for fuck's sake. We're avoiding girls, hardcore, and perfectly happy being together. At least, I'm happy with him. This shit has to end. If he likes me, he needs to be with me. If not, he needs to...tell me that, so I can be tortured in peace as his pretend boyfriend.

I'm pathetic. Seriously, even if he told me he didn't like me, I'd STILL want to be his pretend boyfriend to just get that extra feel in and everything. Am I really that lonely? And desperate?

Calm down, Stan. Don't go Goth again, you're just pissed off.

I reach the door to my room again, and before mom can even question the look on my face, I slam it in hers. Walking over to the bed, I kick off my shoes and stare at the phone. I need to talk to someone. Someone who isn't Kyle. Or Mom.

Kenny! I dial the necessary numbers.

"Hello?"

"Dude! You gotta come over here!"

"...Why?"

"I can't tell you. I gotta show you something. It's important. Please? I need your...expert opinion on something."

"Expert opinion, damn right," Kenny agrees, and I'm sure he thinks it's about alcohol. Or sex.

Okay, so it'll probably end up being about sex. Cause Kenny doesn't know how to talk about anything else.

"Yeah dude, can you be here in about 10?"

"No problem," he tells me, and we hang up. I wait impatiently while toying with my sheets.

He shows up after what feels like forever. Mom tells me he's here. I rush downstairs, but slow down when I get closer to the living room so I won't seem too eager. He's standing in the doorway. Good. I'm taking him back outside anyway.

"Hey Stan-" he starts.

"No time dude, come with me!" I cry. To hell with not sounding eager, this is driving me INSANE!

"Uhhh...kay..." Kenny replies, half awake and half hung over. Of course, should I expect Kenny any other way? I practically yank his arm out of its socket as I pull him along with me to my car.

I pull the car door open and pull the box lid up, showing him the "gift" in question. As expected, he laughs at it. Laughs long and hard. I glare at him.

"Let me save you some time," I say with a sigh. "No, I won't let you use it on me. And no, it's honestly NOT for me."

"Then who's it for," Kenny asks like a statement, smacking his nicotine gum. Ever since he discovered he could get nicotine in gum form, he chews that stuff like its candy.

I suddenly feel bashful and unwilling to diverge any information about the previous few days. But, like Kenny said, if you like acting gay, then you're gay. And I need to know what he thinks about this fucking gay present.

"Kyle got it for me," I explain softly. "I don't know why. That's why I need your help, see? He's...REALLY getting into this whole thing. I think it's gone beyond the point of acting, but I could be wrong. If I'm wrong, if this thing's a joke, I'm gonna make a total ass of myself."

He blinks, and chews, taking in the information. "...How much could he really rip on you for it? He's your fucking 'fake' boyfriend."

I ponder this statement for a brief moment. "I see your point. So, what do you think I should do?"

Kenny shrugs, I think admiring the handiwork of the pump. "Man this thing has dual-action enhancing action that works with-"

"Kenny! I'M NOT USING IT!" I remind him, yanking the box away.

"I know," he mutters, retracting his hands back into his pockets. "Anyway, dude I think you should talk to him. He's obviously got issues about the whole thing. I mean he bought his pretend boyfriend a fucking dick pump."

"Damn right he has issues," I half-joke. "But what do you think it MEANS, dude?"

"I think you're worrying too much about it. He's either got a pervy sense of humor, or he wants to do things to your cock. And honestly, given this whole 'relationship,' I think it's probly a little of both."

"What am I supposed to say about it? What if he asks me about it? If I say it's funny and he was trying to seduce me, he'll feel like crap. If I say it was hot when he was trying to be funny, I'll look stupid."

"Yeah and if you act like nothing happened, he'll think you don't know what it is." Kenny snorts and crooks his neck to stare into the box again. "You sure we can't just-"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "So help me Kenny if you mention using it one more time I'm going to shove it up your ass."

His expression is mildly satisfying, and I groan. "KENNY! HELP ME!"

He laughs. "Okay, okay. Let's go back inside. I'm freezing and my dick didn't get any action last night. It might fall off."

I roll my eyes and head back inside, the package tucked away once more.

We go inside. I'm not sure why. I think Kenny is just hoping my parents will invite him to stay for dinner. I guess he sees I'm still worried about this, because he makes me an offer.

"If you're gonna be that much of a pussy about it, I'll find out what it's for."

"You mean like...talk to Kyle about it?"

Kenny glares at me. "No, I'm gonna read the instructions to find out what it's used for YES I mean I'm gonna talk to Kyle!"

I rub the back of my neck nervously. "And say what? I don't really want it to be that obvious dude. I just...I want to know what the hell he was thinking. 'Sides, he doesn't know I opened it yet."

"Well then what do you want me to do?" Kenny asks, exasperated at my indecision. Come to think of it, I really don't know WHAT I want him to do. I just wish he could help me.

So I just let him stay for dinner as I think of a plan to talk to Kyle.

Kenny eats plenty, of course. After dinner, we go to my room and sit, starring at my phone. Actually, I stare at the phone. He glares at me, waiting for me to give him the okay to call Kyle.

"I'll just tell him I saw it," Kenny offers for me. "I opened it up myself while you were pumping gas or something."

"Yeah..." I think about that scenario. "Yeah! That could work!"

Kenny nods and falls back onto my pillow, folding his hands and crossing his legs. Then he props himself up on his side with his elbow. "Dial the number then."

"O-okay," I stutter nervously. Wow, when did I become such a pussy?

I dial for him. Like he doesn't already know the number? Lazy ass. It rings and I practically throw him the phone.

"Hello?" Kenny says.

"What's he saying?!" I whisper excitedly. I sound like an over-excited schoolgirl on Prozac and it makes me nauseous. Kenny senses this too because he makes a face and says "Thanks Mrs. B."

Shit. Shit! I have no idea what I'm doing right now. Why am I so NERVOUS?! Its just Kyle! And I'm pissed at him! Seriously. That present was such a douche bag move.

"Hey dude" Kenny says. "...Why am I on Stan's phone? Oh, just bumming dinner."

Phew. I hadn't thought that far ahead.

"Yeah, she makes the best meatloaf. Ha, yeah."

Kenny makes himself rather comfortable as he chats it up with Kyle, and I feel myself growing impatient, and almost jealous, that he's spending so much time talking about shit-for-brains topics. I want him to get to the point! I illustrate this with my hands, telling him to speed it up.

"Uh," Kenny interrupts the current topic and sits up on the bed. "Dude, I really called you cause I saw something in Stan's car and I'm...I'm kinda curious what the guy is doing with it."

"What?" I hear him ask on the other line, sounding concerned.

Kenny smirked. "We were parked at this gas station. Stan was out pumping gas, and I found something under the seat. Did you know the poor fucker's gotta penis pump?"

"Hey!" I squeal defensively, but Kenny just shoves me and tells me to "ssh" with his mouth.

I can't hear what Kyle's saying, and part of me really doesn't want to. Of course, the part that wants to is outweighing the other so I mouth for Kenny to scoot over on my bed and I lay next to him as Kyle's words filter out through the ear piece.

Kenny shoves me away again. "Really now," he tells Kyle, which makes me pissed at Kenny now too.

"What's he saying, asshole?!" I hiss-whisper.

"Uh-huh...Uh-huh...Right...Oh. Okay...Yeah...Okay bye."

Kenny hangs up. I glare at him, then back at the disconnected phone, then back at him. "WELL?!"

"I don't think you have much to worry about," Kenny says before scooting himself off the bed and adjusting his shoes.

I growl. "What do you mean? Does he like me? Was it a joke? Is he trying to tell me something?"

I stand up following the bastard who's trying to leave my room without further explanation. He turns to me and pats me on the shoulder.

"You two'll be fine, dude," he concludes, and exits my room. I follow him out into the hallway.

"That doesn't answer anything! Kenny!"

"I'll see you later."

"Dude!"

"You'll see."

I glare at him. "You just wanted free food!"

He smiles and nods his head. As he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he waves goodbye to my mom and then walks out the front door.

I stand at the top of the stairs, bewildered. That accomplished absolutely NOTHING. I wonder why girls always wanted to have their friends do that shit. Knowing girls, they probably spilled their guts as soon as they found out what the reason was or whatever.

I've decided that Kenny sucks.

---

Now it's Monday and I'm at school. I don't think I've ever looked this forward to school in my life. I wanna find out what the hell is going on with Kyle. After having a day to obsess about it, I've decided I can't come right out and ask him why he gave it to me; especially since dumbass Kenny called him and KNOWS that I have it.

I throw all my crap in my locker and look around the hallway to find him. He's not around yet. Kenny's sister is though. Oh, god. She's coming over to me. I hope she's not crushing on me now. Oh, great. She's bringing other girls with her. Where's Kyle when I need him?

"Stan?" she says. "We have to tell you something, and please pass the message onto Kyle too," she says. I nod my head and listen up. "We're done."

I stare blankly, letting the babbling girl continue.

She sniffs the air, pausing dramatically. "All us girls ever did was think you and Kyle were hot. But you two are so stuck up that you'd pretend to be gay just to get rid of us. That's really shitty, and none of us want boyfriends like that."

"Yeah!" the other girls exclaimed in unison.

"Huh?" I say. "We're not pretending."

"Oh come on!" She rolls her eyes at me. "No one is THAT gay for each other."

"We are too!" I say. Wow, I'm really defending this huh?

"Whatever. You guys suck. I'm breaking up with Kyle, and the other girls are over you both."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Katie, you can't break up with Kyle. He's not yours to break up with."

"And he's not _yours_ either," she contests. I drop my hand and stare up at her, annoyed. If she was any kind of a threat, I'd be afraid of being exposed. But she's just a pissed off girl trying to save face. I wonder if Kenny has anything to do with this.

"..." I open my mouth, but realize that the only thing I can say about Kyle and me would be a lie...and that depresses me. Here I am sticking up for our so-called relationship, and there isn't really one to begin with. Whatever it is, it's starting to wear me thin, and all I can think of right now is getting to the bottom of it.

The girls are all walking away in a huff. Good! I don't need them bugging me right now, or ever again. They think Kyle and me are assholes now? Fine. Now they really will leave us alone. Ha. Cartman's trying to hit on them down the hall now. I can't hear what he's saying. I guess he's going for the rebound.

Now he's getting slapped.

Wow, they're forming a line to hit him. At least Kyle and me will never be as lame as he is.

I hear someone creep up behind me and put their hands over my eyes. Not someone. Kyle.

"Guess who?" he says, and my shoulders drop.

"Brian Boitano," I venture, gaining a chuckle from my best friend.

"Close," he says, and removes his hands, staring me down with a grin that makes my insides warm.

"Hey," he says to me.

"Hey," I reply. I don't look him in the eyes. Not yet. I can't keep looking him in his smiling mouth either. It'll make me embarrassed again. I look away toward my locker. I'm looking for something. Yeah, that's it.

"Jesus, dude, I didn't think you'd want to bring it to school!" Kyle jokes when he sees me frantically searching through. What? Is he...suggesting what I think he is?

This time I turn around and DO look him in the eyes. I glare into them, letting him know I'm not amused. Not even a little bit. What the fuck, is this really his sense of humor? I thought I knew him better than that.

Then again, I've never felt this way about him before either, so maybe my paranoia is changing him. Is he begging for attention?

...Don't I give him enough?

"Fuck you," I mutter, unable to formulate anything worth talking about right now.

Kyle purses his lips with worry, but shrugs it off. This happens in a split second before he replies, "not on a school night."

I slam my locker shut. He really thinks this is funny doesn't he? How the hell is this funny? I mean, it is, but it's also torture! Is he THAT oblivious? He can't be! He HAS to know this is super gay and he HAS to know this is hell on me! Does he even care?!

"First of all, our characters do it way more than just on weekends," I argue. "Second of all, you don't even slightly resemble Brian Boitano. And third of all, you're an asshole!"

That so-hot-it-should-be-illegal grin of his wipes right off his face as I storm past him in a rage I didn't even know I HAD inside of me.

Argh! He just gets to me sometimes. I can feel his eyes burning holes into my back as I press on, but I'm not looking back. We'll deal with this later. God, I don't even want to see him in class.

How can he act like everything is okay? I thought I wanted to see him today, but...ugh, these knots in my stomach are gonna force me to go home early if I can't get a grip. I feel nauseous. Next stop, the bathroom.

"BLEGH!!!"

Kay, I feel better now. Well, sort of. My stomach feels better, but now my breath stinks. On top of my head spinning from this Kyle crap, I'm not gonna say or do much of anything today.

This day has to be laid out in a series of steps. Steps I have to follow in order to get through. First step: dealing with Kyle in English. Which, I have just walked through this door and am already getting that feeling again. I made it through first period fine, I even made it through second period with not much difficulty. But they also didn't involve Kyle.

Who looks so lonely and goddamn irresistible sitting all by himself in the corner.

The girls are turning their heads to whisper something about me, but I choose to ignore it. I never really cared about them anyway. I'll admit that now.

I can't stop looking at Kyle. I want to because I'm pissed off at him, but I can't. My eyes are stuck on him. It's like watching a car crash. A really, really hot car crash.

Kyle tears out a sheet of notebook paper. I can tell he's not doing actual schoolwork. His pen strokes aren't keeping up with the teacher's lecture. Goddammit, he's passing a note. I bet it's for me.

It BETTER be for me.

I watch the pen he's using almost longingly. God, I'm a complete loser. My mind begins to wander, zoning out anything Mr. Lewis has to say. It's probably just random information anyway.

Suddenly it dawns on me. Kyle has NEVER paid attention to the ladies. Ever. Kyle has never paid attention to anything unless it was around me or involved me. He used to call me his better half for some lame reason, and I usually just called him an idiot for it and went on with my life.

Was he trying to tell me something? I mean, could he feel the same way and has but just never been able to tell me?

I laugh to myself. Kyle would never hold something like that in. He's the least subtle and hidden person I know. If he wants something, he's blatantly obvious about it.

...Like right now.

Maybe this is all his way of telling me. His therapy. His way of saying it without REALLY saying it. The note is coming closer to my desk. I'm getting excited now. What's he gonna say?

The note reaches me. I open it. I'm reading it even if it's not for me. I don't care right now.

"Stan," the note starts. It IS for me! Sweet! I keep reading.

"I don't know what's up your ass right now, but I think we need to sit down and talk. Really talk. You wanna meet me some place tonight? Please write back. I'm totally serious about this."

What's up my ass? What's up _my_ ass?!?! DUDE! YOU FUCKING GAVE ME A DICK PUMP!!! YOU SAID IT WAS TO SHOW YOUR APPRECIATION!

I'm screaming inside my head right now...it's giving me a headache. I dart my eyes over to Kyle and give him the death glare, and he immediately shrinks away, pretending to turn his attention to Mr. Lewis.

"Excuse me, Mr. Lewis?" he asks as soon as he raises his hand. "I was wondering...about what we talked about before, I would like to try another seat today."

Whoa. Do I REALLY have that evil of a glare?

"Certainly" he says understandingly. "Over here," he points.

Now I feel bad. I have a right to be mad though! ...I think. Don't I? Goddammit, he makes it impossible to stay mad at him, and that just pisses me off too! Great, he's moving. That makes me sad. It hurts. Worse yet, if I do write back, it'll be harder to get the note over there now.

I won't even bother talking about the painfully slow last half hour of class. It was just that--slow. Every minute took five minutes to pass, and I didn't hear a damn word that fat old man teaching us said. It didn't matter though. I spent about 28 minutes of that hella long half hour figuring out how to respond. I figured I could slip him the note after the period and disappear.

I dare to glance over at my best friend, and I frown immediately. He went from looking happy but alone to alone and all the feelings that come with alone. The girls are stealing glances at him too, but he's not paying any attention to any of it. He looks like shit.

I choose my words carefully. I have to be cool about this. He was being cool, mostly. I do wanna meet him tonight and talk about this. Alone. No putting on a show for other people. Just him and me. I want that. I'm so close to figuring this out. I can't fuck that up now.

I go over to him after class, drop the note on his desk, and turn around to leave. I walk quickly. I can feel his eyes on me again. I like it.

Out of the corner of my eye (or basically the eyes in the back of my head), I see him quickly scan the letter.

"Stan," he calls out just as I exit into the hallway.

I turn around to the sound of his voice.

He smiles. "See you tonight."

---

I'm as confused as ever. After sitting through every single five-minute long minute of every single fifty-five minute period PLUS lunch PLUS listening to Kenny talk about everything irrelevant to my situation...I'm back at my house, fiddling with my fingers.

Kyle wasn't in biology. I was sad--all out sad. He showed up five minutes before the end and my face lit up so bright I blinded him. He said he had some "shit to take care of." ??? Whatever, dude. I think he was avoiding me. But it doesn't matter, and it wouldn't make any sense, because he's on his way over here now.

At this point, I might as well be a girl. I might as well be some little flamer that hangs all over Kyle for real. I'm sitting here playing with my hands like I'm Butters Stotch. I wonder if he's nervous at all? I wonder if he'll wanna go somewhere else to talk? This shit is fucking intense! My head's gonna hurt again if I don't calm down.

Another four minutes go by, and I impatiently click my tongue in my throat. When I see a nicely built physique and its shadow coming up the driveway, I panic.

Oh fuck, he looks good. Did he...change clothes? What the hell? His hair is like...fixed. Christ, what is he DOING to me?!

I look down. Besides that. I nervously adjust myself and run toward the living room, practically tackling the front door. I open it up to his formed fist ready to knock.

That didn't look obvious or anything.

"Hey" he says to me again. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," I say. I step back so he can enter, glancing him over from front to back. "...You look nice," I say.

"Thanks. You too," he adds. I don't know if he's just being nice or not. I'm sure as hell not dressed up like he is. I didn't know I was supposed to.

"So where are we going?" he asks.

"I thought we'd just hang out here."

"Oh," he says, sounding embarrassed. "I wanted to be ready in case we went out or something."

"Is that why you dolled yourself up?" I tease, using an expression I don't think I've heard since my grandpa died eight years ago. And even then, the only time I heard it was when he was talking about women his age. But, with that said, I lift my arm and play with his collar, not giving my hand permission to do so.

He smiles genuinely before it fades. I think, for once, Kyle is at loss for words. And--correct me if I'm wrong--he's acting shy. KYLE is acting SHY.

Something is wrong.

Maybe it's because I'm the aggressor this time. I'm the one touching him. I'm the one with the power. -I- agreed to let -him- come over.

Or he's embarrassed he got dressed up for nothing.

"So...Can we talk?" he asks timidly.

"Yeah" I say. This is nice. He's not joking around. We're not acting gay. We're just...here. Together. I don't know where to start with this one, so I just wait for him to say something first. He does the same thing, apparently, because we stand there in awkward silence a second.

And by second, I mean another one of those five-minute minutes. I start to sweat out of pure nerves, and I rub my back, too damn shy to even say, "Come up to my room," because...I'm a guy. And the thought that is running through my head when I say that makes my dick crawl around.

So, instead I mumble something incoherent, to which he agrees, and I follow him up to my room.

Kyle shuts the door behind us. Not that it matters. No one will hear us anyway.

"I don't know what to say," I admit to him.

"Me either."

"...Well, we -have- to say something," I reason. "We agreed to come here and talk. We can't talk if we don't say anything."

"That's not true. We could pass notes again," he jokes.

"You know what I mean." I can't help it, that remark makes me smile. At least we're starting to joke around again. One step at a time, I guess.

Kyle sighs. "Dude, are you pissed off about this? I mean, I never even thought about how this would probably keep the girls away from you too."

I sigh back. That settles it. He really IS clueless. "Kyle that's not a pr-"

"I guess I just figured you helping me out would...it would somehow help you out too. That's lame," he explains, and I think it is more to himself, cause he's not looking at me. Maybe this is the first time he's thought about how it's affecting me. But hell, he's got it all wrong. I don't fucking care about the girls.

I care about us.

Yep. Might as well call me Stacy and dress me in pink.

I shake my head. "It's not that Kyle. I don't care about the girls."

"You don't?"

"No dude. If I did I wouldn't have agreed to do all this with you. I was pissed off at you, but not for that. And honestly, I don't wanna be pissed at you anyway."

He blinks a few times. Then finally asks, "Well...Then what is it?"

I throw my hands up. "You! God, you fucking...what the hell was that 'present'? HUH?" I feel myself starting to snap, but at the same time, I feel really sorry for the guy I'm head over heels for standing right in front of me. Cause he's worse off than I am if he's this much in denial.

I see a trace of a smile cross his lips, and it hits me, right in the middle of the forehead. He...really thought it was funny. It was harmless. He's STILL laughing about it.

"Stan, I just did it to get a rise out of you," he admits. Oh, what a rise he gets out of me already. And he doesn't even have to try.

"Well, it worked," I admit.

"I can see that," he says with a frown. "I'm sorry it pissed you off so much, Stan. I honestly didn't mean anything by it. You don't actually...need to use it or anything like that...I'm sorry dude. I should know you don't joke with a guy about the size of his manhood."

"That's not what bothers me either," I begin.

"Good, cause you've got nothing to be ashamed about," he slips out, but he just looks into my eyes like what he just said was insignificant.

I blink, stunned. "Jesus, Kyle, do you really not know what's going on?"

"..."

"You're not acting anymore!" I blurt out.

He searches me for a clearer statement. Because, apparently, that isn't clear enough. I stare at him back, holding out for his answer.

"So?"

I blink back at him a few times, processing this myself. "So? So?! So that...So that means you're gay for me!"

"...Yeah. And?"

A lump forms in my throat. I need to make sure we're clear on this.

"...So...So wait, you ARE gay for me?"

He breathes deep, and his entire body moves up, then down. "Stan, what kind of guy acts gay with his best friend to avoid girls?"

"...A gay one?" I venture, too in shock to feel my lips move to the sound. Kenny was right. Kenny was fucking right the whole damn time.

Kyle nods. "I've been thinking about it. You didn't call me on Sunday, and it bummed me out. It pissed me off. Cause we shoulda been hanging out."

"We've hung out before this whole thing," I remind him.

"Yeah," he agrees. "But I've never had as much fun as we did at that club."

"...Yeah, that was fun," I admit. "Lots of fun." I don't dare tell him what else it did to me, but I'm sure he already knows.

"Yeah, it was. This whole thing's been fun Stan. It's felt right. It's felt...normal. Shit, we even carried it over to doing it outside of school just to mess with people. And yeah it was funny, but it was also really good. I'm gay, dude. Okay? I admit that. I'm totally queer for you."

That...was the easiest confession and solution to a problem ever. EVER.

I grin. "So that kiss?"

"What about it?" He looks innocent and oblivious again, and I want to clock him in the face for it.

"Was it...real?"

"You weren't dreaming it up."

I growl. "Kyle!"

He laughs. "I'm pretty sure that's when I decided I might have a thing for you."

"But you played if off like it was planned..." I recall, feeling like a girl for wanting the tiny details.

"Oh, I planned it." Kyle is smiling amazingly right now. It gives me butterflies in my stomach. I can't believe this.

"That just leaves one problem," he points out.

"What?" I ask.

"Well...How do YOU feel? I mean, are YOU gay for ME?"

"...Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

"What kind of guy agrees to pretend to be gay with his best friend to the point of kissing each other in a gay dance club?"

"...A gay one?" he repeats my answer.

"Right," I say.

His smile widens even more. I didn't even think that was possible. Until my face stretches even more than his.

"So that means...?"

His shoulders shrug. "You wanna be a couple for real?"

"I don't think we have to change much," I figure.

"Nah, but now we don't have to hold back."

"...You were holding back?" I ask intrigued, and quite honestly, really turned on.

Kyle steps closer to me. I realize neither of us have sat the entire time we've been in here. We've both been standing around like idiots waiting for the other.

Now I guess we don't have to wait anymore.

Finally!

He's stopped moving closer. Now he's kissing me again. Only this time it's for real. I kiss back, which is also real. The hot guy at school is actually mine. My boyfriend. And I'm his boyfriend. We're together. After all this, that's pretty hard to believe. But there it is. We're homos, we're boyfriends and we're making out just like that.

God, we're so gay.


End file.
